Poem Hunter: Poems - Poets - Poetry

There is an hour at night full of an awesome wonder,
When universal silence o'er the whole world lies
And when the cosmic chariot rolls, wakening no thunder,
Into the sanctuary of the skies.

The dark of chaos comes, land, sky and water merging;
Sleep Atlas-like treads earth, its weight like lead;
The gods with dreams prophetic fire the virgin
Soul of the Muse; all else is dead.
...

Your whole way with shining evil's coal
Margaret, they all do bravely judge.
What's your fault? The body sinned as such,
Innocent you have retained your soul.

To all people it's the same, I know,
To all nodded with a blurry smile.
And with this sorrowful semi-smile
You have wept yourself long time ago.


...

Quiet… beneath an endless sky, I stand
A hush settles, lingering where I am
Stillness wraps around my gaze
And silence speaks what words cannot

If only you were here with me now

Beside me—so close our breaths would meet
Your presence brushing softly against mine
Within the reach of my waiting hands

...

Would you be much impressed, my dear,
Now you've adopted shorts,
If males like me came dressed, my dear,
In skirts, to divers sports?
With gussets, flares and pleats and things
Like that, we'd give our fancy wings
To grace the links and courts.

You should not worry very much,
Since male attire you choose,
If, with a chic Parisian touch
And taste in cut and hues,
We garbed ourselves, from neck to knees,
In crepe de chine or 'summer breeze'
Of pretty pinks and blues.

Would frills and flounces seem absurd
Upon the manly form?
I don't see why, upon my word,
Such gads, should raise a storm
Of ridicule. And, if they do,
Scorn coming from one garbed like you
Is really rather warm.

Think the position out, my dear,
And be consistent, please.
And, while you dash about, my dear,
In pants shorn to the knees,
You're drawing from the normal male
The same loud laugh with which you'd hail

...

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 gray mist on the sea's face, and a grey dawn breaking.

I must go down to the seas again, for the call of the running tide
Is a wild call and a clear call that may not be denied;
And all I ask is a windy day with the white clouds flying,
And the flung spray and the blown spume, and the sea-gulls crying.

...

From to and fro
About the curtains will this sea go
Rocking about in an endless motion
Drifting off into the expanse of endless blue
Off to the horizon

Stepping a foot at a time
Passing each crack of stone by an inch
Measuring the next arc for the next landing
Staring at God's creature

...

The child not yet is lulled to rest.
Too young a nurse, the slender Night
So laxly holds him to her breast
That throbs with flight.

He plays with her, and will not sleep.
For other playfellows she sighs;
An unmaternal fondness keep
Her alien eyes.
...

Toll no bell for me, dear Father dear Mother,
Waste no sighs;
There are my sisters, there is my little brother
Who plays in the place called Paradise,
Your children all, your children for ever;
But I, so wild,
Your disgrace, with the queer brown face, was never,
Never, I know, but half your child!

In the garden at play, all day, last summer,

...

When mankind's thoughts feed desire,
We pledge on time, calling it sire.
It oscillates in the lives of the ambitious,
For in time's eyes they appear malicious.
Time devours the hearts of the fiendish,
For in their presence, life they do not cherish.
He conjures it all without question,
Regardless of where mankind lays devotion.
He remains a little longer for the strong,
While inconspicuously reciting his song.

...