Book Read Free

The Seashell Anthology of Great Poetry

Page 18

by Неизвестный


  To find the arms of my true love

  Round me once again! . . .

  A shadow flits before me,

  Not thou, but like to thee:

  Ah, Christ! that it were possible

  For one short hour to see

  The souls we loved, that they might tell us

  What and where they be!

  Alfred, Lord Tennyson, 1855

  Next | TOC> What Lips My Lips> Teasdale

  Sleepless

  If I could have your arms tonight—

  But half the world and the broken sea

  Lie between you and me.

  The autumn rain reverberates in the courtyard,

  Beating all night against the barren stone,

  The sound of useless rain in the desolate

  courtyard

  Makes me more alone.

  If you were here, if you were only here—

  My blood cries out to you all night in vain

  As sleepless as the rain.

  Sara Teasdale, 1919

  Next | TOC> What Lips My Lips> Levine

  Belle Isle, 1949

  We stripped in the first warm spring night

  and ran down into the Detroit River

  to baptize ourselves in the brine

  of car parts, dead fish, stolen bicycles,

  melted snow. I remember going under

  hand in hand with a Polish highschool girl

  I'd never seen before, and the cries

  our breath made caught at the same time

  on the cold, and rising through the layers

  of darkness into the final moonless atmosphere

  that was this world, the girl breaking

  the surface after me and swimming out

  on the starless waters towards the lights

  of Jefferson Ave. and the stacks

  of the old stove factory unwinking.

  Turning at last to see no island at all

  but a perfect calm dark as far

  as there was sight, and then a light

  and another riding low out ahead

  to bring us home, ore boats maybe, or smokers

  walking alone. Back panting

  to the gray coarse beach we didn't dare

  fall on, the damp piles of clothes,

  and dressing side by side in silence

  to go back where we came from.

  Philip Levine, 1974

  Next | TOC> What Lips My Lips> Evans

  If There Be Sorrow

  If there be sorrow

  let it be

  for things undone

  undreamed

  unrealized

  unattained

  to these add one:

  Love withheld

  . . . restrained

  Mari Evans, 1970

  Next | TOC> What Lips My Lips> Evans

  Where Have You Gone

  Where have you gone

  with your confident

  walk with

  your crooked smile

  why did you leave

  me

  when you took your

  laughter

  and departed

  are you aware that

  with you

  went the sun

  all light

  and what few stars

  there were?

  where have you gone

  with your confident

  walk your

  crooked smile the

  rent money

  in one pocket and

  my heart

  in another . . .

  Mari Evans, 1970

  Next | TOC> What Lips My Lips> Dickinson

  The heart asks pleasure first

  The heart asks pleasure first,

  And then excuse from pain;

  And then those little anodynes

  That deaden suffering;

  And then to go to sleep;

  And then, if it should be

  The will of its Inquisitor,

  The privilege to die.

  Emily Dickinson, 1862

  Next | TOC> What Lips My Lips> Keats

  La Belle Dame Sans Merci

  O what can ail thee, Knight at arms,

  Alone and palely loitering?

  The sedge has withered from the Lake

  And no birds sing!

  O what can ail thee, Knight at arms,

  So haggard and so woe begone?

  The squirrel's granary is full,

  And the harvest's done.

  I see a lily on thy brow

  With anguish moist and fever dew,

  And on thy cheeks a fading rose

  Fast withereth too.

  "I met a Lady in the Meads,

  Full beautiful, a faery's child,

  Her hair was long, her foot was light,

  And her eyes were wild.

  "I made a Garland for her head,

  And bracelets too, and fragrant Zone;

  She looked at me as she did love,

  And made sweet moan.

  "I set her on my pacing steed,

  And nothing else saw all day long,

  For sidelong would she bend and sing

  A faery's song.

  "She found me roots of relish sweet,

  And honey wild, and manna dew,

  And sure in language strange she said,

  "I love thee true!"

  "She took me to her elfin grot

  And there she wept and sighed full sore,

  And there I shut her wild, wild eyes

  With kisses four.

  "And there she lullèd me asleep,

  And there I dreamed, Ah! woe betide!

  The latest dream I ever dreamed

  On the cold hill side.

  "I saw pale Kings, and Princes too,

  Pale warriors, death-pale were they all;

  They cried, 'La belle dame sans merci

  Hath thee in thrall!'

  "I saw their starved lips in the gloam

  With horrid warning gapèd wide,

  And I awoke and found me here

  On the cold hill's side.

  "And this is why I sojourn here,

  Alone and palely loitering;

  Though the sedge is withered from the Lake

  And no birds sing."

  John Keats, 1819

  Next | TOC> What Lips My Lips> Yeats

  Down by the salley gardens

  Down by the salley gardens my love

  and I did meet;

  She passed the salley gardens with little

  snow-white feet.

  She bid me take love easy, as the leaves

  grow on the tree;

  But I, being young and foolish, with her

  would not agree.

  In a field by the river my love

  and I did stand,

  And on my leaning shoulder she laid

  her snow-white hand.

  She bid me take life easy, as the grass

  grows on the weirs;

  But I was young and foolish, and now

  am full of tears.

  William Butler Yeats, 1889

  Next | TOC> What Lips My Lips> Brooke

  The Hill

  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!"

  "We are Earth's best, that learnt her lesson here.

  Life is our cry. We have kept the faith!" we said;

  "We shall go down with unreluctant tread

  Rose-crowned into the darkness!" . . . Proud

  we were,

  And laughed, that had such brave true things

 
to say.

  —And then you suddenly cried, and

  turned away.

  Rupert Brooke, 1911

  Next | TOC> What Lips My Lips> Housman

  Because I liked you better

  Because I liked you better

  Than suits a man to say,

  It irked you, and I promised

  To throw the thought away.

  To put the world between us

  We parted, stiff and dry;

  "Good-bye," said you, "forget me."

  "I will, no fear," said I.

  If here, where clover whitens

  The dead man's knoll, you pass,

  And no tall flower to meet you

  Starts in the trefoiled grass,

  Halt by the headstone naming

  The heart no longer stirred,

  And say the lad that loved you

  Was one that kept his word.

  A. E. Housman, 1936

  Next | TOC> What Lips My Lips> Bishop

  One Art

  The art of losing isn't hard to master;

  so many things seem filled with the intent

  to be lost that their loss is no disaster.

  Lose something every day. Accept the fluster

  of lost door keys, the hour badly spent.

  The art of losing isn't hard to master.

  Then practice losing farther, losing faster:

  places, and names, and where it was you meant

  to travel. None of these will bring disaster.

  I lost my mother's watch. And look! my last, or

  next-to-last, of three loved houses went.

  The art of losing isn't hard to master.

  I lost two cities, lovely ones. And, vaster,

  some realms I owned, two rivers, a continent.

  I miss them, but it wasn't a disaster.

  —Even losing you (the joking voice, a gesture

  I love) I shan't have lied. It's evident

  the art of losing's not too hard to master

  though it may look like (Write it!) like disaster.

  Elizabeth Bishop, 1969

  Next | TOC> What Lips My Lips> Cutts

  Only tell her that I love

  Only tell her that I love:

  Leave the rest to her and Fate:

  Some kind planet from above

  May perhaps her pity move:

  Lovers on their stars must wait—

  Only tell her that I love!

  John, Lord Cutts, 1707

  Next | TOC> What Lips My Lips> Turner

  Love

  I have known what it is to love:

  to walk among the midday mob,

  and share the friendship of the faceless throng;

  to laugh with children on the paths,

  and chatter at a bright-eyed squirrel.

  I have known what it is to love:

  afraid to speak,

  fearing it would be thought a lie;

  afraid to breathe a smoke-ring dream

  and watch it fade,

  or see it ground beneath a careless toe.

  I have known what it is to love

  and hear a sigh—

  soft as worn string that parts—

  and not to know it as my own.

  I have known what it is to love:

  to walk the tower-shadowed streets

  and seek one face;

  to shudder at cacophony of horns and brakes,

  and listen for one voice.

  I have known what it is to love:

  to seek to hide the thought

  in Lethal wine and laughing eyes

  and kisses from a dozen pairs

  of painted lips.

  I have known what it is to love,

  and tongue the alum of

  a lonely heart.

  Darwin T. Turner, 1964

  Next | TOC> What Lips My Lips> Merwin

  Separation

  Your absence has gone through me

  Like thread through a needle.

  Everything I do is stitched with its color.

  W. S. Merwin, 1963

  Next | TOC> What Lips My Lips> Millay

  What lips my lips have kissed

  What lips my lips have kissed, and where,

  and why,

  I have forgotten, and what arms have lain

  Under my head till morning; but the rain

  Is full of ghosts tonight, that tap and sigh

  Upon the glass and listen for reply,

  And in my heart there stirs a quiet pain

  For unremembered lads that not again

  Will turn to me at midnight with a cry.

  Thus in the winter stands the lonely tree,

  Nor knows what birds have vanished one by one,

  Yet knows its boughs more silent than before:

  I cannot say what loves have come and gone,

  I only know that summer sang in me

  A little while, that in me sings no more.

  Edna St. Vincent Millay, 1923

  Next | TOC> What Lips My Lips> Millay

  I Shall Go Back

  I shall go back again to the bleak shore

  And build a little shanty on the sand,

  In such a way that the extremest band

  Of brittle seaweed will escape my door

  But by a yard or two; and nevermore

  Shall I return to take you by the hand;

  I shall be gone to what I understand,

  And happier than I ever was before.

  The love that stood a moment in your eyes,

  The words that lay a moment on your tongue,

  Are one with all that in a moment dies,

  A little under-said and over-sung.

  But I shall find the sullen rocks and skies

  Unchanged from what they were when

  I was young.

  Edna St. Vincent Millay, 1923

  Next | TOC> What Lips My Lips> Housman

  Oh, when I was in love with you

  Oh, when I was in love with you,

  Then I was clean and brave,

  And miles around the wonder grew

  How well did I behave.

  And now the fancy passes by,

  And nothing will remain,

  And miles around they'll say that I

  Am quite myself again.

  A. E. Housman, 1896

  Next | TOC> If Ever Two Were One> Bradstreet

  To My Dear and Loving Husband

  If ever two were one, then surely we.

  If ever man were loved by wife, then thee;

  If ever wife was happy in a man,

  Compare with me, ye women, if you can.

  I prize thy love more than whole mines of gold,

  Or all the riches that the East doth hold.

  My love is such that rivers cannot quench,

  Nor ought but love from thee give recompense.

  Thy love is such I can no way repay,

  The heavens reward thee manifold, I pray.

  Then while we live, in love let's so persevere,

  That when we live no more, we may live ever.

  Anne Bradstreet, 1678

  Next | TOC> If Ever Two Were One> Browning E

  How Do I Love Thee?

  How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.

  I love thee to the depth and breadth and height

  My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight

  For the ends of Being and ideal Grace.

  I love thee to the level of every day's

  Most quiet need, by sun and candle light.

  I love thee freely, as men strive for Right;

  I love thee purely, as they turn from Praise.

  I love thee with the passion put to use

  In my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith.

  I love thee with a love I seemed to lose

  With my lost saints—I love thee with the breath,

  Smiles, tears, of all my life—and, if God choose,

  I shall but love
thee better after death.

  Elizabeth Barrett Browning, 1846

  Next | TOC> If Ever Two Were One> Millay

  Modern Declaration

  I, having loved ever since I was a child a few

  things, never having wavered

  In these affections; never through shyness in

  the houses of the rich or in the presence of

  clergymen having denied these loves;

  Never when worked upon by cynics like

  chiropractors having grunted or clicked a

  vertebra to the discredit of these loves;

  Never when anxious to land a job having

  diminished them by a conniving smile;

  or when befuddled by drink

  Jeered at them through heartache or lazily

  fondled the fingers of their alert enemies;

  declare

  That I shall love you always.

  No matter what party is in power;

  No matter what temporarily expedient

  combination of allied interests

  wins the war;

  Shall love you always.

  Edna St. Vincent Millay, 1939

  Next | TOC> If Ever Two Were One> Millay

  Love is not all

  Love is not all: it is not meat or drink

  Nor slumber nor a roof against the rain;

  Nor yet a floating spar to men that sink

  And rise and sink and rise and sink again;

  Love cannot fill the thickened lung with breath,

  Nor clean the blood, nor set the fractured bone;

  Yet many a man is making friends with death

  Even as I speak, for lack of love alone.

  It may well be that in a difficult hour,

  Pinned down by pain and moaning for release,

  Or nagged by want past resolution's power,

  I might be driven to sell your love for peace,

  Or trade the memory of this night for food.

  It may well be. I do not think I would.

 

‹ Prev