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by
Stevie Smith
Conviction (ii)
I walked abroad in Easter Park,
I heard the wild dog's distant bark,
I knew my Lord was risen again, -
Wild dog, wild dog, you bark in vain.
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by
George William Russell
In Memoriam
The flowers left thick at nightfall in the wood
This Eastertide call into mind the men,
Now far from home, who, with their sweethearts, should
Have gathered them and will do never again.
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by
Allen Ginsberg
An Eastern Ballad
I speak of love that comes to mind:
The moon is faithful, although blind;
She moves in thought she cannot speak.
Perfect care has made her bleak.
I never dreamed the sea so deep,
The earth so dark; so long my sleep,
I have become another child.
I wake to see the world go wild.
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by
Thomas Hardy
At a Hasty Wedding
If hours be years the twain are blest,
For now they solace swift desire
By bonds of every bond the best,
If hours be years. The twain are blest
Do eastern stars slope never west,
Nor pallid ashes follow fire:
If hours be years the twain are blest,
For now they solace swift desire.
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by
Thomas Hardy
Birds at Winter Nightfall (Triolet)
Around the house the flakes fly faster,
And all the berries now are gone
From holly and cotoneaster
Around the house. The flakes fly!--faster
Shutting indoors that crumb-outcaster
We used to see upon the lawn
Around the house. The flakes fly faster,
And all the berries now are gone!
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by
Amy Clampitt
Easter Morning
a stone at dawn
cold water in the basin
these walls' rough plaster
imageless
after the hammering
of so much insistence
on the need for naming
after the travesties
that passed as faces,
grace: the unction
of sheer nonexistence
upwelling in this
hyacinthine freshet
of the unnamed
the faceless
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by
Emily Dickinson
Removed from Accident of Loss
Removed from Accident of Loss
By Accident of Gain
Befalling not my simple Days --
Myself had just to earn --
Of Riches -- as unconscious
As is the Brown Malay
Of Pearls in Eastern Waters,
Marked His -- What Holiday
Would stir his slow conception --
Had he the power to dream
That put the Dower's fraction --
Awaited even -- Him --
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by
Wang Wei
Fields and Gardens by the River Qi
I dwell apart by the River Qi,
Where the Eastern wilds stretch far without hills.
The sun darkens beyond the mulberry trees;
The river glistens through the villages.
Shepherd boys depart, gazing back to their hamlets;
Hunting dogs return following their men.
When a man's at peace, what business does he have?
I shut fast my rustic door throughout the day.
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by
Li Po
To Tan-Ch'iu
My friend is lodging high in the Eastern Range,
Dearly loving the beauty of valleys and hills.
At green Spring he lies in the empty woods,
And is still asleep when the sun shines on igh.
A pine-tree wind dusts his sleeves and coat;
A peebly stream cleans his heart and ears.
I envy you, who far from strife and talk
Are high-propped on a pillow of blue cloud.
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by
Henry David Thoreau
They Who Prepare my Evening Meal Below
They who prepare my evening meal below
Carelessly hit the kettle as they go
With tongs or shovel,
And ringing round and round,
Out of this hovel
It makes an eastern temple by the sound.
At first I thought a cow bell right at hand
Mid birches sounded o'er the open land,
Where I plucked flowers
Many years ago,
Spending midsummer hours
With such secure delight they hardly seemed to flow.
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by
Emily Dickinson
The lonesome for they know not What
The lonesome for they know not What --
The Eastern Exiles -- be --
Who strayed beyond the Amber line
Some madder Holiday --
And ever since -- the purple Moat
They strive to climb -- in vain --
As Birds -- that tumble from the clouds
Do fumble at the strain --
The Blessed Ether -- taught them --
Some Transatlantic Morn --
When Heaven -- was too common -- to miss --
Too sure -- to dote upon!
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by
Ezra Pound
Taking Leave of a Friend
Blue mountains lie beyond the north wall;
Round the city's eastern side flows the white water.
Here we part, friend, once forever.
You go ten thousand miles, drifting away
Like an unrooted water-grass.
Oh, the floating clouds and the thoughts of a wanderer!
Oh, the sunset and the longing of an old friend!
We ride away from each other, waving our hands,
While our horses neigh softly, softly . . . .
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by
A E Housman
Loveliest of Trees, the Cherry Now
Loveliest of trees, the cherry now
Is hung with bloom along the bough,
And stands about the woodland ride
Wearing white for Eastertide.
Now, of my threescore years and ten,
Twenty will not come again,
And take from seventy springs a score,
It only leaves me fifty more.
And since to look at things in bloom
Fifty springs are little room,
About the woodlands I will go
To see the cherry hung with snow.
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by
Henry Van Dyke
America
I love thine inland seas,
Thy groves of giant trees,
Thy rolling plains;
Thy rivers' mighty sweep,
Thy mystic canyons deep,
Thy mountains wild and steep,
All thy domains;
Thy silver Eastern strands,
Thy Golden Gate that stands
Wide to the West;
Thy flowery Southland fair,
Thy sweet and crystal air, --
O land beyond compare,
Thee I love best!
Additional verses for the
National Hymn,
March, 1906.
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by
Emily Dickinson
If He dissolve -- then
If He dissolve -- then --
there is nothing -- more --
Eclipse -- at Midnight --
It was dark -- before --
Sunset -- at Easter --
Blindness -- on the Dawn --
Faint Star of Bethlehem --
Gone down!
Would but some God -- inform Him --
Or it be too late!
Say -- that the pulse just lisps --
The Chariots wait --
Say -- that a little life -- for His --
Is leaking -- red --
His little Spaniel -- tell Him!
Will He heed?
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by
Katharine Tynan
Easter
Bring flowers to strew His way,
Yea, sing, make holiday;
Bid young lambs leap,
And earth laugh after sleep.
For now He cometh forth
Winter flies to the north,
Folds wings and cries
Amid the bergs and ice.
Yea, Death, great Death is dead,
And Life reigns in his stead;
Cometh the Athlete
New from dead Death's defeat.
Cometh the Wrestler,
But Death he makes no stir,
Utterly spent and done,
And all his kingdom gone.
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by
George Herbert
Easter Song
I Got me flowers to straw Thy way,
I got me boughs off many a tree;
But Thou wast up by break of day,
And brought’st Thy sweets along with Thee.
The sunne arising in the East,
Though he give light, and th’ East perfume,
If they should offer to contest
With Thy arising, they presume.
Can there be any day but this,
Though many sunnes to shine endeavour?
We count three hundred, but we misse:
There is but one, and that one ever.
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by
Isaac Watts
Psalm 97 part 2
v.6-9
L. M.
Christ's incarnation.
The Lord is come; the heav'ns proclaim
His birth; the nations learn his name;
An unknown star directs the road
Of eastern sages to their God.
All ye bright armies of the skies,
Go, worship where the Savior lies;
Angels and kings before him bow,
Those gods on high and gods below.
Let idols totter to the ground,
And their own worshippers confound
But Judah shout, but Zion sing,
And earth confess her sovereign King.
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by
Mary Elizabeth Coleridge
Good Friday in my Heart
GOOD FRIDAY in my heart! Fear and affright!
My thoughts are the Disciples when they fled,
My words the words that priest and soldier said,
My deed the spear to desecrate the dead.
And day, Thy death therein, is changed to night.
Then Easter in my heart sends up the sun.
My thoughts are Mary, when she turned to see.
My words are Peter, answering, ‘Lov’st thou Me?’
My deeds are all Thine own drawn close to Thee,
And night and day, since Thou dost rise, are one.
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by
Henry David Thoreau
The Moon
Time wears her not; she doth his chariot guide;
Mortality below her orb is placed.
--Raleigh
The full-orbed moon with unchanged ray
Mounts up the eastern sky,
Not doomed to these short nights for aye,
But shining steadily.
She does not wane, but my fortune,
Which her rays do not bless,
My wayward path declineth soon,
But she shines not the less.
And if she faintly glimmers here,
And paled is her light,
Yet alway in her proper sphere
She's mistress of the night.
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