This living, this living, this living
Was never a project of mine.
Oh, hard is the struggle, and sparse is
The gain of the one at the top,
For art is a form of catharsis,
And love is a permanent flop,
And work is the province of cattle,
And rest’s for a clam in a shell,
So I’m thinking of throwing the battle-
Would you kindly direct me to hell?
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Because my love is quick to come and go-
What use are any words of mine to swearMy heart is stubborn, and my spirit slowOf weathering the drip and drive of woe?What is my oath, when you have but to bareMy little, easy loves; and I can dareOnly to shrug, and answer, ‘They are so’?You do not know how heavy a heart it isThat…
Daily I listen to wonder and woe,
Telling me stories of lava and snow,Delicate fables of ribbon and lace,Tales of the quarry, the kill, the chase,Longer than heaven and duller than hell-Never you blame me, who cry my case:‘Poets alone should kiss and tell!’Dumbly I hear what I never should know,Gently I counsel of pride and of grace;Into minutiae gayly they go,Telling…
And if my heart be scarred and burned,
The calmer, I, to see it trueThat ways of love are never new-The love that sets you daft and dazedIs every love that ever blazed;The happier, I, to fathom this:A kiss is every other kiss.The reckless vow, the lovely name,When Helen walked, were spoke the same;The weighted breast, the grinding woe,When Phaon fled, were ever…
Unto seventy years and seven,
You, that are the brat of HeavenAnd the pampered heir to Hell.Let your rhymes be tinsel treasures,Strung and seen and thrown aside.Drill your apt and docile measuresSternly as you drill your pride.Show your quick, alarming skill inTidy mockeries of art;Never, never dip your quill inInk that rushes from your heart.When your pain must come to…
So let me have the rouge again,
The poor young men, the dear young menThey’ll all be here by noon today.And I shall wear the blue, I think-They beg to touch its rippled lace;Or do they love me best in pink,So sweetly flattering the face?And are you sure my eyes are bright,And is it true my cheek is clear?Young what’s-his-name stayed half…
This is what I vow;
Sweetly will we stir and sleep,All the years, as now.Swift the measured sands may run;Love like this is never done;He and I are welded one:This is what I vow.This is what I pray:Keep him by me tenderly;Keep him sweet in pride of me,Ever and a day;Keep me from the old distress;Let me, for our happiness,Be…