Archive | Poetry

Flowers by the Sea

Flowers by the Sea When over the flowery, sharp pasture’s edge, unseen, the salt ocean lifts its form—chicory and daisies tied, released, seem hardly flowers alone but color and the movement—or the shape perhaps—of restlessness, whereas the sea is circled and sways peacefully upon its plantlike stem –William Carlos Williams     This poem was […]

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Assault

Assault Edna St. Vincent Millay I had forgotten how the frogs must sound After a year of silence, else I think I should not so have ventured forth alone At dusk upon this unfrequented road. I am waylaid by Beauty. Who will walk Between me and the crying of the frogs? Oh, savage Beauty, suffer […]

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Not shaking the grass

    And the days are not full enough And the nights are not full enough And life slips by like a field mouse Not shaking the grass –Ezra Pound   I’ve posted this short poem before. Every time I stumble across it, it’s like finding it for the first time. A thrill of excitement, […]

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Sea Fever

Sea Fever by John Masefield I must go down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky, And all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by; And the wheel’s kick and the wind’s song and the white sail’s shaking, And a grey mist on the sea’s […]

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Cold Iron

Cold Iron Gold is for the mistress — silver for the maid — Copper for the craftsman cunning at his trade.” “Good!” said the Baron, sitting in his hall, “But Iron — Cold Iron — is master of them all.” So he made rebellion ‘gainst the King his liege, Camped before his citadel and summoned […]

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The Castle

The Castle All through that summer at ease we lay, And daily from the turret wall We watched the mowers in the hay And the enemy half a mile away They seemed no threat to us at all. For what, we thought, had we to fear With our arms and provender, load on load, Our […]

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They cried for a broken gourd

Yet they felt the sea-wind tying them into one nation of eyes and shadows and groans, in the one pain that is inconsolable, the loss of one’s shore with its crooked footpath. They had wept, not for their wives only, their fading children, but for strange, ordinary things. This one, who was a hunter, wept […]

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