The Three Taverns: A Book of PoemsMacmillan, 1920 - 120 страница |
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afraid Ahab alacrity For saying Alcibiades alive ashes believe blind BURR Cæsar calm children-singing cold coming Damascus dark dead devil doubt dreams dust ears endurance ermine eternal evanescent evil eyes face faded faith fancy fathers fealty fear feel fell Ferguson fire FIRELIGHT forget Forgive forgotten Gamaliel gave gazed genius ghost give glad gone HAMILTON heard honor jealous knew laughing Lazarus light live lonely look Lord Martha Mary Master Meanwhile MERLIN Monticello mortal never night Nimmo once Peace on Earth pitied remember Rome ruins sake schisms seen Shadow shining sight silence sleep smile somewhere soon sorry soul stars strange sure Tasker Norcross tell there's things thought THREE TAVERNS told tomb tonight trees truth UNIVERSITY OF MICHIGAN Valley vanished wait wisdom woman wonder word worse than death wrong yourselves
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Страница 28 - So little have you seen of what awaits Your fevered glimpse of a democracy Confused and foiled with an equality Not equal to the envy it creates, That you see not how near you are the gates Of an old king who listens fearfully To you that are outside and are to be The noisy lords of imminent estates. Rather be then your prayer that you shall have Your kingdom undishonored. Having all, See not the great among you for the small, But hear their silence; for the few shall save The many, or the many are...
Страница 27 - ALL you that are enamored of my name And least intent on what most I require, Beware; for my design and your desire, Deplorably, are not as yet the same. Beware, I say, the failure and the shame Of losing that for which you now aspire So blindly, and of hazarding entire The gift that I was bringing when I came. Give as I will, I cannot give you sight Whereby to see that with you there are some To lead you, and be led. But they are dumb Before the wrangling and the shrill delight Of your deliverance...
Страница 99 - I'm painting here a better man, you say, Than I, the painter; and you say the truth. PEACE ON EARTH He took a frayed hat from his head, And "Peace on Earth" was what he said. "A morsel out of what you're worth, And there we have it: Peace on Earth. Not much, although a little more Than what there was on earth before. I'm as you see, I'm Ichabod, — But never mind the ways I've trod; I'm sober now, so help me God.
Страница 82 - FIRELIGHT Ten years together without yet a cloud, They seek each other's eyes at intervals Of gratefulness to firelight and four walls For love's obliteration of the crowd. Serenely and perennially endowed And bowered as few may be, their joy recalls No snake, no sword ; and over them there falls The blessing of what neither says aloud. Wiser for silence, they were not so glad Were she to read the graven tale of lines On the wan face of one somewhere alone; Nor were they more content could he have...
Страница 12 - And in the mill there was a warm And mealy fragrance of the past. What else there was would only seem To say again what he had meant; And what was hanging from a beam Would not have heeded where she went. And if she thought it followed her, She may have reasoned in the dark That one way of the few there were Would hide her and would leave no mark: Black water, smooth above the weir Like starry velvet in the night, Though ruffled once, would soon appear The same as ever to the sight.
Страница 6 - So they were, and so they are; and as they came are coming others, And among them are the fearless and the meek and the unborn; And a question that has held us heretofore without an answer May abide without an answer until all have ceased to mourn. For the children of the dark are more to name than are the wretched. Or the broken, or the weary, or the baffled, or the shamed: There are builders of new mansions in the Valley of the Shadow, And among them are the dying and the blinded and the maimed.
Страница 13 - THE DARK HILLS Dark hills at evening in the west, Where sunset hovers like a sound Of golden horns that sang to rest Old bones of warriors under ground, Far now from all the bannered ways Where flash the legions of the sun, You fade — as if the last of days Were fading, and all wars were done.
Страница 55 - My green hill yonder, where the sun goes down Without a scratch, was once inhabited By trees that injured him — an evil trash That made a cage, and held him while he bled. "Gone fifty years, I see them as they were Before they fell. They were a crooked lot To spoil my sunset, and I saw ii6"~time In fifty years for crooked things to rot.
Страница 85 - Poetry transcends itself in the playfulness of the toast. Robinson has gone to his place in American literature and left his human place among us vacant. We mourn, but with the qualification that, after all, his life was a revel in the felicities of language. And not just to no purpose. None has deplored The inscrutable profusion of the Lord Who shaped as one of us a thing so sad and at the same time so happy in achievement. Not for me to search his sadness to its source. He knew how to forbid encroachment....
Страница 77 - And he could see no more. The captured light That may have been or not, for all he cared, The song that is in sculpture was not his, But only, to his God-forgotten eyes, One more immortal nonsense in a world Where all was mortal, or had best be so, And so be done with. 'Art,' he would have said, 'Is not life, and must therefore be a lie;' And with a few profundities like that He would have controverted and dismissed The benefit of the Greeks. He had heard of them, As he had heard of his aspiring...