And skies be underneath the seasNo topsyturvier than a shower.If mountains rose on wings to wanderThey were no wilder than a cloud;Yet all my praise is mean as slander,Mean as these mean words spoken aloud.And never more than now I knowThat man’s first heaven is far behind;Unless the blazing seraph’s blowHas left him in the…
Upon whose doomed deformed backI sweep the planets’ scorching track.Old is the elf, and wise, men say,His hair grows green as ours grows grey;He mocks the stars with myriad hands,High as that swinging forest stands.But though in pigmy wanderings dullI scour the deserts of his skull,I never find the face, eyes, teeth,Lowering or laughing underneath.I…
Babies look up with owlish faceAnd see them tangled in a tree;You saw a moon from Sussex Downs,A Sussex moon, untravelled still,I saw a moon that was the town’s,The largest lamp on Campden Hill.Yea; Heaven is everywhere at homeThe big blue cap that always fits,And so it is (be calm; they comeTo goal at last,…
Yet the mightiest have I seen:Yea, the best saw I.One that in a field aloneStood up stiller than a stoneLest a moth should fly.Birds had nested in his hair,On his shoon were mosses rare,Insect empires flourished there,Worms in ancient wars;But his eyes burn like a glass,Hearing a great sea of grassRoar towards the stars.From them…
And there comes no answer in arch or dome,For none in the city of graves goes home.Yet these shall perish and understand,For God has pity on this great land.Men that are men again; who goes home?Tocsin and trumpeter! Who goes home?For there’s blood on the field and blood on the foamAnd blood on the body…
Yea, in my madness if I strike me dead,Heed you the grass that grows upon my grave.If I dare snarl between this sun and sod,Whimper and clamour, give me grace to own,In sun and rain and fruit in season shown,The shining silence of the scorn of God.Thank God the stars are set beyond my power,If…
The novels of Jane AustenAre the ones to get lost in.I wonder if LabbyHas read Northanger Abbey
The dead stone lived beneath my foot,And my whole body spoke.‘You, that play tyrant to the dust,And stamp its wrinkled face,This patient star that flings you notFar into homeless space.‘Come down out of your dusty shrineThe living dust to see,The flowers that at your sermon’s endStand blazing silently.‘Rich white and blood-red blossom; stones,Lichens like fire…
She sat upon her Seven HillsShe rent the scarlet robes about her,Nor yet in her two thousand yearsHad ever grieved that men should doubt her;But what new horror shakes the mindMaking her moan and mutter madly;Lo! Rome’s high heart is broken at lastHer foes have borrowed Dennis Bradley.If she must lean on lesser propsOf earthly…
That men might shun the awful shopsAnd go to inns to dine;Where the bacon’s on the rafterAnd the wine is in the wood,And God that made good laughterHas seen that they are good.The evil-hearted GrocerWould call his mother ‘Ma’am,’And bow at her and bob at her,Her aged soul to damn,And rub his horrid hands and…
