Sidney Lanier Short Poems

Famous Short Sidney Lanier Poems. Short poetry by famous poet Sidney Lanier. A collection of the all-time best Sidney Lanier short poems

• Sidney Lanier Poems
• Sidney Lanier Best Poems

Control  

 O Hunger, Hunger, I will harness thee
And make thee harrow all my spirit's glebe.

Of old the blind bard Herve sang so sweet
He made a wolf to plow his land.

Struggle  

 My soul is like the oar that momently
Dies in a desperate stress beneath the wave,
Then glitters out again and sweeps the sea:
Each second I'm new-born from some new grave.

Marsh Hymns  

 Between Dawn and Sunrise.




Were silver pink, and had a soul,
Which soul were shy, which shyness might
A visible influence be, and roll
Through heaven and earth -- 'twere thou, O light!

O rhapsody of the wraith of red,
O blush but yet in prophecy,
O sun-hint that hath overspread
Sky, marsh, my soul, and yonder sail.

Night  

 HEART-HIDDEN from the outer things I rose;
The spirit woke anew in nightly birth
Unto the vastness where forever glows
 The star-soul of the earth.



There all alone in primal ecstasy,
Within her depths where revels never tire,
The olden Beauty shines: each thought of me
 Is veined through with its fire.



And all my thoughts are throngs of living souls;
They breathe in me, heart unto heart allied;
Their joy undimmed, though when the morning tolls
 The planets may divide.

A Song Of The Future  

 Sail fast, sail fast,
Ark of my hopes, Ark of my dreams;
Sweep lordly o'er the drowned Past,
Fly glittering through the sun's strange beams;
Sail fast, sail fast.

Breaths of new buds from off some drying lea
With news about the Future scent the sea:
My brain is beating like the heart of Haste:
I'll loose me a bird upon this Present waste;
Go, trembling song,
And stay not long; oh, stay not long:
Thou'rt only a gray and sober dove,
But thine eye is faith and thy wing is love.

The Stirrup-Cup  

 Death, thou'rt a cordial old and rare:
Look how compounded, with what care!
Time got his wrinkles reaping thee
Sweet herbs from all antiquity.


David to thy distillage went,
Keats, and Gotama excellent,
Omar Khayyam, and Chaucer bright,
And Shakespeare for a king-delight.


Then, Time, let not a drop be spilt:
Hand me the cup whene'er thou wilt;
'Tis thy rich stirrup-cup to me;
I'll drink it down right smilingly.

The Palm And The Pine  

 From the German of Heine.




In the far North stands a Pine-tree, lone,
Upon a wintry height;
It sleeps: around it snows have thrown
A covering of white.


It dreams forever of a Palm
That, far i' the Morning-land,
Stands silent in a most sad calm
Midst of the burning sand.

Souls And Rain-Drops  

 Light rain-drops fall and wrinkle the sea,
Then vanish, and die utterly.

One would not know that rain-drops fell
If the round sea-wrinkles did not tell.


So souls come down and wrinkle life
And vanish in the flesh-sea strife.

One might not know that souls had place
Were't not for the wrinkles in life's face.

Thou And I  

 So one in heart and thought, I trow,
That thou might'st press the strings and I might draw the bow
And both would meet in music sweet,
Thou and I, I trow.