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Penguin's Poems for Love

Page 7

by Laura Barber


  Too long, this time of year, the days!

  But nights, at least the nights are short.

  As night shows where her one moon is,

  A hand’s-breadth of pure light and bliss,

  So life’s night gives my lady birth

  And my eyes hold her! What is worth

  The rest of heaven, the rest of earth?

  O loaded curls, release your store

  Of warmth and scent, as once before

  The tingling hair did, lights and darks

  Outbreaking into fairy sparks,

  When under curl and curl I pried

  After the warmth and scent inside,

  Through lights and darks how manifold –

  The dark inspired, the light controlled!

  As early Art embrowns the gold.

  What great fear, should one say, ‘Three days

  That change the world might change as well

  Your fortune; and if joy delays,

  Be happy that no worse befell!’

  What small fear, if another says,

  ‘Three days and one short night beside

  May throw no shadow on your ways;

  But years must teem with change untried,

  With chance not easily defied,

  With an end somewhere undescried.’

  No fear! – or if a fear be born

  This minute, it dies out in scorn.

  Fear? I shall see her in three days

  And one night, now the nights are short,

  Then just two hours, and that is morn.

  ROBERT GRAVES

  Not to Sleep

  Not to sleep all the night long, for pure joy,

  Counting no sheep and careless of chimes,

  Welcoming the dawn confabulation

  Of birds, her children, who discuss idly

  Fanciful details of the promised coming –

  Will she be wearing red, or russet, or blue,

  Or pure white? – whatever she wears, glorious:

  Not to sleep all the night long, for pure joy,

  This is given to few but at last to me,

  So that when I laugh and stretch and leap from bed

  I shall glide downstairs, my feet brushing the carpet

  In courtesy to civilized progression,

  Though, did I wish, I could soar through the open window

  And perch on a branch above, acceptable ally

  Of the birds still alert, grumbling gently together.

  ELIZABETH BISHOP

  Invitation to Miss Marianne Moore

  From Brooklyn, over the Brooklyn Bridge, on this fine

  morning,

  please come flying.

  In a cloud of fiery pale chemicals,

  please come flying,

  to the rapid rolling of thousands of small blue drums

  descending out of the mackerel sky

  over the glittering grandstand of harbor-water,

  please come flying.

  Whistles, pennants and smoke are blowing. The ships

  are signaling cordially with multitudes of flags

  rising and falling like birds all over the harbor.

  Enter: two rivers, gracefully bearing

  countless little pellucid jellies

  in cut-glass epergnes dragging with silver chains.

  The flight is safe; the weather is all arranged.

  The waves are running in verses this fine morning.

  Please come flying.

  Come with the pointed toe of each black shoe

  trailing a sapphire highlight,

  with a black capeful of butterfly wings and bon-mots,

  with heaven knows how many angels all riding

  on the broad black brim of your hat,

  please come flying.

  Bearing a musical inaudible abacus,

  a slight censorious frown, and blue ribbons,

  please come flying.

  Facts and skyscrapers glint in the tide; Manhattan

  is all awash with morals this fine morning,

  so please come flying.

  Mounting the sky with natural heroism,

  above the accidents, above the malignant movies,

  the taxicabs and injustices at large,

  while horns are resounding in your beautiful ears

  that simultaneously listen to

  a soft uninvented music, fit for the musk deer,

  please come flying.

  For whom the grim museums will behave

  like courteous male bower-birds,

  for whom the agreeable lions lie in wait

  on the steps of the Public Library,

  eager to rise and follow through the doors

  up into the reading rooms,

  please come flying.

  We can sit down and weep; we can go shopping,

  or play at a game of constantly being wrong

  with a priceless set of vocabularies,

  or we can bravely deplore, but please

  please come flying.

  With dynasties of negative constructions

  darkening and dying around you,

  with grammar that suddenly turns and shines

  like flocks of sandpipers flying,

  please come flying.

  Come like a light in the white mackerel sky,

  come like a daytime comet

  with a long unnebulous train of words,

  from Brooklyn, over the Brooklyn Bridge, on this fine

  morning,

  please come flying.

  MONIZA ALVI

  A Bowl of Warm Air

  Someone is falling towards you

  as an apple falls from a branch,

  moving slowly, imperceptibly as if

  into a new political epoch,

  or excitedly like a dog towards a bone.

  He is holding in both hands

  everything he knows he has –

  a bowl of warm air.

  He has sighted you from afar

  as if you were a dramatic crooked tree

  on the horizon and he has seen you close up

  like the underside of a mushroom.

  But he cannot open you like a newspaper

  or put you down like a newspaper.

  And you are satisfied that he is veering towards you

  and that he is adjusting his speed

  and that the sun and the wind and rain are in front of him

  and the sun and the wind and rain are behind him.

  JOHN MONTAGUE

  All Legendary Obstacles

  All legendary obstacles lay between

  Us, the long imaginary plain,

  The monstrous ruck of mountains

  And, swinging across the night,

  Flooding the Sacramento, San Joaquin,

  The hissing drift of winter rain.

  All day I waited, shifting

  Nervously from station to bar

  As I saw another train sail

  By, the San Francisco Chief or

  Golden Gate, water dripping

  From great flanged wheels.

  At midnight you came, pale

  Above the negro porter’s lamp.

  I was too blind with rain

  And doubt to speak, but

  Reached from the platform

  Until our chilled hands met.

  You had been travelling for days

  With an old lady, who marked

  A neat circle on the glass

  With her glove, to watch us

  Move into the wet darkness

  Kissing, still unable to speak.

  Superlatively

  WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE

  Sonnet 130

  My mistress’ eyes are nothing like the sun;

  Coral is far more red than her lips’ red;

  If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun;

  If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head.

  I have seen roses damasked, red and white,

  But no such r
oses see I in her cheeks,

  And in some perfumes is there more delight

  Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks.

  I love to hear her speak, yet well I know

  That music hath a far more pleasing sound.

  I grant I never saw a goddess go;

  My mistress when she walks treads on the ground.

  And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare

  As any she belied with false compare.

  IAN DUHIG

  From the Irish

  According to Dineen, a Gael unsurpassed

  in lexicographical enterprise, the Irish

  for moon means ‘the white circle in a slice

  of half-boiled potato or turnip’. A star

  is the mark on the forehead of a beast

  and the sun is the bottom of a lake, or well.

  Well, if I say to you your face

  is like a slice of half-boiled turnip,

  your hair is the colour of a lake’s bottom

  and at the centre of each of your eyes

  is the mark of the beast, it is because

  I want to love you properly, according to Dineen.

  BEN JONSON

  from A Celebration of Charis, in Ten Lyric Pieces

  Her Triumph

  See the chariot at hand here of Love,

  Wherein my lady rideth!

  Each that draws is a swan or a dove,

  And well the car Love guideth.

  As she goes, all hearts do duty

  Unto her beauty;

  And enamour’d, do wish, so they might

  But enjoy such a sight,

  That they still were to run by her side,

  Through swords, through seas, whither she would ride.

  Do but look on her eyes, they do light

  All that Love’s world compriseth!

  Do but look on her hair, it is bright

  As Love’s star when it riseth!

  Do but mark, her forehead’s smoother

  Than words that soothe her!

  And from her arched brows, such a grace

  Sheds itself through the face

  As alone there triumphs to the life

  All the gain, all the good, of the elements’ strife.

  Have you seen but a bright lily grow,

  Before rude hands have touch’d it?

  Have you mark’d but the fall of the snow

  Before the soil hath smutch’d it?

  Have you felt the wool of the beaver?

  Or swan’s down ever?

  Or have smelt of the bud of the briar?

  Or the nard in the fire?

  Or have tasted the bag of the bee?

  Oh so white! Oh so soft! Oh so sweet is she!

  THE KING JAMES BIBLE

  from The Song of Solomon

  My beloved is white and ruddy,

  the chiefest among ten thousand.

  His head is as the most fine gold,

  his locks are bushy, and black as a raven.

  His eyes are as the eyes of doves by the rivers of water,

  washed with milk, and fitly set.

  His cheeks are as a bed of spices, as sweet flowers:

  his lips like lilies, dropping sweet-smelling myrrh.

  His hands are as gold rings set with the beryl:

  his belly is as bright ivory overlaid with sapphires.

  His legs are as pillars of marble, set upon sockets of fine

  gold:

  his countenance is as Lebanon, excellent as the cedars.

  His mouth is most sweet, yea, he is altogether lovely.

  GEORGE GORDON, LORD BYRON

  She Walks in Beauty

  She walks in beauty, like the night

  Of cloudless climes and starry skies;

  And all that’s best of dark and bright

  Meet in her aspect and her eyes:

  Thus mellow’d to that tender light

  Which heaven to gaudy day denies.

  One shade the more, one ray the less,

  Had half impair’d the nameless grace

  Which waves in every raven tress,

  Or softly lightens o’er her face;

  Where thoughts serenely sweet express

  How pure, how dear their dwelling place.

  And on that cheek, and o’er that brow,

  So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,

  The smiles that win, the tints that glow,

  But tell of days in goodness spent,

  A mind at peace with all below,

  A heart whose love is innocent!

  AUSTIN CLARKE

  The Planter’s Daughter

  When night stirred at sea

  And the fire brought a crowd in,

  They say that her beauty

  Was music in mouth

  And few in the candlelight

  Thought her too proud,

  For the house of the planter

  Is known by the trees.

  Men that had seen her

  Drank deep and were silent,

  The women were speaking

  Wherever she went –

  As a bell that is rung

  Or a wonder told shyly,

  And O she was the Sunday

  In every week.

  E. E. CUMMINGS

  somewhere i have never travelled,gladly beyond

  any experience,your eyes have their silence:

  in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me,

  or which i cannot touch because they are too near

  your slightest look easily will unclose me

  though i have closed myself as fingers,

  you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens

  (touching skilfully,mysteriously)her first rose

  or if your wish be to close me, i and

  my life will shut very beautifully, suddenly,

  as when the heart of this flower imagines

  the snow carefully everywhere descending;

  nothing which we are to perceive in this world equals

  the power of your intense fragility:whose texture

  compels me with the colour of its countries,

  rendering death and forever with each breathing

  (i do not know what it is about you that closes

  and opens;only something in me understands

  the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses)

  nobody, not even the rain,has such small hands

  WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE

  from The Merchant of Venice, V, i

  LORENZO:

  The moon shines bright. In such a night as this,

  When the sweet wind did gently kiss the trees

  And they did make no noise, in such a night

  Troilus methinks mounted the Troyan walls,

  And sighed his soul toward the Grecian tents

  Where Cressid lay that night.

  JESSICA:

  In such a night

  Did Thisbe fearfully o’ertrip the dew,

  And saw the lion’s shadow ere himself,

  And ran dismayed away.

  LORENZO:

  In such a night

  Stood Dido with a willow in her hand

  Upon the wild sea banks, and waft her love

  To come again to Carthage.

  JESSICA:

  In such a night

  Medea gathered the enchanted herbs

  That did renew old Aeson.

  LORENZO:

  In such a night

  Did Jessica steal from the wealthy Jew,

  And with an unthrift love did run from Venice

  As far as Belmont.

  JESSICA:

  In such a night

  Did young Lorenzo swear he loved her well,

  Stealing her soul with many vows of faith,

  And ne’er a true one.

  LORENZO:

  In such a night

  Did pretty Jessica, like a little shrew,

  Slander her love, and he forgave it her.
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  JESSICA:

  I would out-night you, did nobody come;

  But hark, I hear the footing of a man.

  OGDEN NASH

  Reprise

  Geniuses of countless nations

  Have told their love for generations

  Till all their memorable phrases

  Are common as goldenrod or daisies.

  Their girls have glimmered like the moon,

  Or shimmered like a summer noon,

  Stood like lily, fled like fawn,

  Now the sunset, now the dawn,

  Here the princess in the tower

  There the sweet forbidden flower.

  Darling, when I look at you

  Every aged phrase is new,

  And there are moments when it seems

  I’ve married one of Shakespeare’s dreams.

  Persuasively

  MAYA ANGELOU

  Come. And Be My Baby

  The highway is full of big cars

  going nowhere fast

  And folks is smoking anything that’ll burn

  Some people wrap their lives around a cocktail glass

  And you sit wondering

  where you’re going to turn.

  I got it.

  Come. And be my baby.

  Some prophets say the world is gonna end

  tomorrow

  But others say we’ve got a week or two

  The paper is full of every kind of blooming horror

  And you sit wondering

  What you’re gonna do.

  I got it.

  Come. And be my baby.

  JOHN KEATS

  To Fanny

  I cry your mercy, pity, love – ay, love!

  Merciful love that tantalizes not,

  One-thoughted, never-wandering, guileless love,

  Unmasked, and being seen – without a blot!

 

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