Dictionary Poems

‘And ask ye why these sad tears stream?’ ‘Te somnia nostra reducunt.’OVID. And ask ye why these sad tears stream? ; ;Why these wan eyes are dim with weeping?I had a dream–a lovely dream, ; ;Of her that in the grave is sleeping. I saw her as ’twas yesterday, ; ;The bloom upon her cheek … Continued

I should not dare to leave my friend,Because — because if he should dieWhile I was gone, and I — too late —Should reach the heart that wanted me; If I should disappoint the eyesThat hunted, hunted so, to see,And could not bear to shut untilThey noticed me — they noticed me; If I should … Continued

YOU waves, though you dance by my feet like children at play,Though you glow and you glance, though you purr and you dart;In the Junes that were warmer than these are, the waves were more gay,When I was a boy with never a crack in my heart.The herring are not in the tides as they … Continued

Let laureates sing with rapturous swingOf the wonder and glory of work;Let pulpiteers preach and with passion impeachThe indolent wretches who shirk.No doubt they are right: in the stress of the fightIt’s the slackers who go to the wall;So though it’s my shame I perversely proclaimIt’s fine to do nothing at all. It’s fine to … Continued

BID a strong ghost stand at the headThat my Michael may sleep sound,Nor cry, nor turn in the bedTill his morning meal come round;And may departing twilight keepAll dread afar till morning’s back.That his mother may not lackHer fill of sleep.Bid the ghost have sword in fist:Some there are, for I avowSuch devilish things exist,Who … Continued

NAPOLEON shifted,Restless in the old sarcophagusAnd murmured to a watchguard:Who goes there?Twenty-one million men,Soldiers, armies, guns,Twenty-one millionAfoot, horseback,In the air,Under the sea.And Napoleon turned to his sleep:It is not my world answering;It is some dreamer who knows notThe world I marched inFrom Calais to Moscow.And he slept onIn the old sarcophagusWhile the aeroplanesDroned their motorsBetween … Continued

THERE was a man whom Sorrow named his Friend,And he, of his high comrade Sorrow dreaming,Went walking with slow steps along the gleamingAnd humming Sands, where windy surges wend:And he called loudly to the stars to bendFrom their pale thrones and comfort him, but theyAmong themselves laugh on and sing alway:And then the man whom … Continued

Of all the meals that glad my dayMy morning one’s the best;Purveyed me on a silver tray,Immaculately dressed.I rouse me when the dawn is bright;I leap into the sea,Returning with a rare delightTo honey, toast and tea. My appetite was razor edgedWhen I was in my prime;To eggs and bacon I was pledged . . … Continued

So proud she was to die It made us all ashamedThat what we cherished, so unknown To her desire seemed. So satisfied to go Where none of us should be,Immediately, that anguish stooped Almost to jealousy. – So proud she was to die by Emily Dickinson

GOING to him! Happy letter! Tell him —Tell him the page I didn’t write;Tell him I only said the syntax,And left the verb and the pronoun out.Tell him just how the fingers hurried,Then how they waded, slow, slow, slow;And then you wished you had eyes in your pages,So you could see what moved them so. … Continued