Collected PoemsJohn Lane Company, 1915 - 168 pagine |
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AMBARVALIA Antwerp beauty birds blow blue breath cool creep cries dance dark dark tides dawn dead dear death delight dirty songs dreams dust earth ecstasy England English English poetry eternal eyes face fade faint feet fire flame flowers fool friends gleam gloom gold golden Grantchester grey hair hands Haslingfield heart heaven holy hour hush immortal kiss knew Lascelles Abercrombie laugh laughter Lemnos light lips lonely long watch Love's lovelier lover Mamua Menelaus mirth moon mouth never night pain PAPEETE passion peace poem poets quiet radiant Rupert Brooke scented Scyros shade shining sick side of Paradise sigh silence skies sleep soft song sonnet South Sea star stir strange suddenly sunlight sweet tears there's things thought tide voice WAIKIKI wakes watch waters wave Westminster Gazette whispering wind wine of youth wise wood youth
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Pagina 141 - If I should die, think only this of me: That there's some corner of a foreign field That is for ever England. There shall be In that rich earth a richer dust concealed; A dust whom England bore, shaped, made aware, Gave, once, her flowers to love, her ways to roam, A body of England's, breathing English air, Washed by the rivers, blest by suns of home.
Pagina 141 - Blow out, you bugles, over the rich Dead! There's none of these so lonely and poor of old, But, dying, has made us rarer gifts than gold. These laid the world away; poured out the red Sweet wine of youth; gave up the years to be Of work and joy, and that unhoped serene, That men call age; and those who would have been, Their sons, they gave, their immortality.
Pagina 110 - These hearts were woven of human joys and cares, Washed marvellously with sorrow, swift to mirth. The years had given them kindness. Dawn was theirs, And sunset, and the colours of the earth. These had seen movement, and heard music; known Slumber and waking; loved; gone proudly friended; Felt the quick stir of wonder; sat alone; Touched flowers and furs and cheeks. All this ended.
Pagina 121 - These I have loved: White plates and cups, clean-gleaming, Ringed with blue lines; and feathery, faery dust; Wet roofs, beneath the lamplight; the. strong crust Of friendly bread; and many-fasting food: Rainbows; and the blue bitter smoke of wood; And radiant raindrops couching in cool flowers; And flowers themselves, that sway through sunny...
Pagina 112 - OH love is fair, and love is rare"; my dear one she said, "But love goes lightly over." I bowed her foolish head, And kissed her hair and laughed at her. Such a child was she ; So new to love, so true to love, and she spoke so bitterly. But there's wisdom in women, of more than they have known, And thoughts go blowing through them, are wiser than their own, Or how should my dear one, being ignorant and young, Have cried on love so bitterly, with so true a tongue...
Pagina 57 - March narrows. There slipping wave and shore are one, And weed and mud. No ray of sun, But glow to glow fades down the deep (As dream to unknown dream in sleep); Shaken translucency illumes The hyaline of drifting glooms; The strange soft-handed depth subdues Drowned colour there, but black to hues, As death to living, decomposes — Red darkness of the heart of roses, Blue brilliant from dead starless skies, And gold that lies behind the eyes, The unknown unnameable sightless white That is the essential...
Pagina 63 - BREATHLESS, we flung us on the windy hill, Laughed in the sun, and kissed the lovely grass. You said, "Through glory and ecstasy we pass; Wind, sun, and earth remain, the birds sing still, When we are old, are old. . . ." "And when we die All's over that is ours; and life burns on Through other lovers, other lips," said I, — "Heart of my heart, our heaven is now, is won!
Pagina 28 - And I was tired and sick that all was over, And because I, For all my thinking, never could recover One moment of the good hours that were over. And I was sorry and sick, and wished to die. Then from the sad west turning wearily, 1 saw the pines against the white north sky.
Pagina vii - She dwells with Beauty — Beauty that must die; And Joy, whose hand is ever at his lips Bidding adieu; and aching Pleasure nigh, Turning to poison while the bee-mouth sips...
Pagina 56 - THE FISH IN a cool curving world he lies And ripples with dark ecstasies. The kind luxurious lapse and steal Shapes all his universe to feel And know and be; the clinging stream Closes his memory, glooms his dream, Who lips the roots o' the shore, and glides Superb on unreturning tides.