Look for no melancholy shade,
And have no thoughts of buried bones;
For I am bodiless and bright,
And fill this glade with sudden glow;
The leaves are washed in under-light;
Shade lies upon the boughs like snow.
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The eyelids meet. He’ll catch a little nap.
It shakes above the briefcase on his lap.Close voices breathe, ‘Poor sweet, he did his best.’‘Poor sweet, poor sweet,’ the bird-hushed glades repeat,Through which in quiet pomp his litter goes,Carried by native girls with naked feet.A sighing stream concurs in his repose.Could he but think, he might recall to mindThe righteous mutiny or sudden galeThat…
Right down the shocked street with a
That sends all else skittering to thecurb,Redness, brass, ladders and hats hurlpast,Blurring to sheer verb,Shift at the corner into uproarious gearAnd make it around the turn in a squallof traction,The headlong bell maintaining sure andclear,Thought is degraded action!Beautiful, heavy, unweary, loud,obvious thing!I stand here purged of nuance, mymind a blank.All I was brooding upon has…
Piecemeal the summer dies;
A last shawl of burning liesOn a gray field-stone.All cries are thin and terse;The field has droned the summer’s final mass;A cricket like a dwindled hearseCrawls from the dry grass.
One wading a Fall meadow finds on all sides
On water; it glidesSo from the walker, it turnsDry grass to a lake, as the slightest shade of youValleys my mind in fabulous blue Lucernes.The beautiful changes as a forest is changedBy a chameleon’s tuning his skin to it;As a mantis, arrangedOn a green leaf, growsInto it, makes the leaf leafier, and provesAny greenness is…
At the end a
The King being out of danger,Stewart Granger(As Rudolph Rassendyll)Must swallow a bitter pillBy renouncing his co-star,Deborah Kerr.It would be poor behaviaIn him and in Princess FlaviaWere they to put their ownConcerns before those of the Throne.Deborah Kerr must wedThe King instead.Rassendyll turns to go.Must it be so?Why can’t they have their cakeAnd eat it, for…
The horse beneath me seemed
Through the horror of snow I dreamed,And so I had no fear,Nor was I chilled to deathBy the wind’s white shudders, thanksTo the veils of his patient breathAnd the mist of sweat from his flanks.It seemed that all night through,Within my hand no reinAnd nothing in my viewBut the pillar of his mane,I rode with…