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Best Famous Rhymers Poems

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Written by Ezra Pound | Create an image from this poem

Hugh Selwyn Mauberly (Part I)

 "Vocat aestus in umbram" 
Nemesianus Es. IV. 

E. P. Ode pour l'élection de son sépulchre 

For three years, out of key with his time,
He strove to resuscitate the dead art
Of poetry; to maintain "the sublime"
In the old sense. Wrong from the start --

No, hardly, but, seeing he had been born
In a half savage country, out of date;
Bent resolutely on wringing lilies from the acorn;
Capaneus; trout for factitious bait:

"Idmen gar toi panth, os eni Troie
Caught in the unstopped ear;
Giving the rocks small lee-way
The chopped seas held him, therefore, that year.

His true Penelope was Flaubert,
He fished by obstinate isles;
Observed the elegance of Circe's hair
Rather than the mottoes on sun-dials.

Unaffected by "the march of events",
He passed from men's memory in l'an trentiesme
De son eage; the case presents
No adjunct to the Muses' diadem.

II.

The age demanded an image
Of its accelerated grimace,
Something for the modern stage,
Not, at any rate, an Attic grace;

Not, not certainly, the obscure reveries
Of the inward gaze;
Better mendacities
Than the classics in paraphrase!

The "age demanded" chiefly a mould in plaster,
Made with no loss of time,
A prose kinema, not, not assuredly, alabaster
Or the "sculpture" of rhyme.

III. 

The tea-rose, tea-gown, etc.
Supplants the mousseline of Cos,
The pianola "replaces"
Sappho's barbitos.

Christ follows Dionysus,
Phallic and ambrosial
Made way for macerations;
Caliban casts out Ariel.

All things are a flowing,
Sage Heracleitus says;
But a tawdry cheapness
Shall reign throughout our days.

Even the Christian beauty
Defects -- after Samothrace;
We see to kalon
Decreed in the market place.

Faun's flesh is not to us,
Nor the saint's vision.
We have the press for wafer;
Franchise for circumcision.

All men, in law, are equals.
Free of Peisistratus,
We choose a knave or an eunuch
To rule over us.

A bright Apollo,

tin andra, tin eroa, tina theon,
What god, man, or hero
Shall I place a tin wreath upon?

IV. 

These fought, in any case,
and some believing, pro domo, in any case ..

Some quick to arm,
some for adventure,
some from fear of weakness,
some from fear of censure,
some for love of slaughter, in imagination,
learning later ...

some in fear, learning love of slaughter;
Died some pro patria, non dulce non et decor" ..

walked eye-deep in hell
believing in old men's lies, then unbelieving
came home, home to a lie,
home to many deceits,
home to old lies and new infamy;

usury age-old and age-thick
and liars in public places.

Daring as never before, wastage as never before.
Young blood and high blood,
Fair cheeks, and fine bodies;

fortitude as never before 

frankness as never before,
disillusions as never told in the old days,
hysterias, trench confessions,
laughter out of dead bellies.


V. 

There died a myriad,
And of the best, among them,
For an old ***** gone in the teeth,
For a botched civilization.

Charm, smiling at the good mouth,
Quick eyes gone under earth's lid,

For two gross of broken statues,
For a few thousand battered books.

Yeux Glauques

Gladstone was still respected,
When John Ruskin produced
"Kings Treasuries"; Swinburne
And Rossetti still abused.

Fœtid Buchanan lifted up his voice
When that faun's head of hers
Became a pastime for
Painters and adulterers.

The Burne-Jones cartons
Have preserved her eyes;
Still, at the Tate, they teach
Cophetua to rhapsodize;

Thin like brook-water,
With a vacant gaze.
The English Rubaiyat was still-born
In those days.

The thin, clear gaze, the same
Still darts out faun-like from the half-ruin'd face,
Questing and passive ....
"Ah, poor Jenny's case" ...

Bewildered that a world
Shows no surprise
At her last maquero's 
Adulteries.

"Siena Mi Fe', Disfecemi Maremma" 

Among the pickled fœtuses and bottled bones,
Engaged in perfecting the catalogue,
I found the last scion of the
Senatorial families of Strasbourg, Monsieur Verog.

For two hours he talked of Gallifet;
Of Dowson; of the Rhymers' Club;
Told me how Johnson (Lionel) died
By falling from a high stool in a pub ...

But showed no trace of alcohol
At the autopsy, privately performed --
Tissue preserved -- the pure mind
Arose toward Newman as the whiskey warmed.

Dowson found harlots cheaper than hotels;
Headlam for uplift; Image impartially imbued
With raptures for Bacchus, Terpsichore and the Church.
So spoke the author of "The Dorian Mood",

M. Verog, out of step with the decade,
Detached from his contemporaries,
Neglected by the young,
Because of these reveries.

Brennbaum. 

The sky-like limpid eyes,
The circular infant's face,
The stiffness from spats to collar
Never relaxing into grace;

The heavy memories of Horeb, Sinai and the forty years,
Showed only when the daylight fell
Level across the face
Of Brennbaum "The Impeccable".

Mr. Nixon 

In the cream gilded cabin of his steam yacht
Mr. Nixon advised me kindly, to advance with fewer
Dangers of delay. "Consider
Carefully the reviewer.

"I was as poor as you are;
"When I began I got, of course,
"Advance on royalties, fifty at first", said Mr. Nixon,
"Follow me, and take a column,
"Even if you have to work free.

"Butter reviewers. From fifty to three hundred
"I rose in eighteen months;
"The hardest nut I had to crack
"Was Dr. Dundas.

"I never mentioned a man but with the view
"Of selling my own works.
"The tip's a good one, as for literature
"It gives no man a sinecure."

And no one knows, at sight a masterpiece.
And give up verse, my boy,
There's nothing in it."

* * * 

Likewise a friend of Bloughram's once advised me:
Don't kick against the pricks,
Accept opinion. The "Nineties" tried your game
And died, there's nothing in it.

X. 

Beneath the sagging roof
The stylist has taken shelter,
Unpaid, uncelebrated,
At last from the world's welter

Nature receives him,
With a placid and uneducated mistress
He exercises his talents
And the soil meets his distress.

The haven from sophistications and contentions
Leaks through its thatch;
He offers succulent cooking;
The door has a creaking latch.

XI. 

"Conservatrix of Milésien"
Habits of mind and feeling,
Possibly. But in Ealing
With the most bank-clerkly of Englishmen?

No, "Milésian" is an exaggeration.
No instinct has survived in her
Older than those her grandmother
Told her would fit her station.

XII. 

"Daphne with her thighs in bark
Stretches toward me her leafy hands", --
Subjectively. In the stuffed-satin drawing-room
I await The Lady Valentine's commands,

Knowing my coat has never been
Of precisely the fashion
To stimulate, in her,
A durable passion;

Doubtful, somewhat, of the value
Of well-gowned approbation
Of literary effort,
But never of The Lady Valentine's vocation:

Poetry, her border of ideas,
The edge, uncertain, but a means of blending
With other strata
Where the lower and higher have ending;

A hook to catch the Lady Jane's attention,
A modulation toward the theatre,
Also, in the case of revolution,
A possible friend and comforter.

* * * 

Conduct, on the other hand, the soul
"Which the highest cultures have nourished"
To Fleet St. where
Dr. Johnson flourished;

Beside this thoroughfare
The sale of half-hose has
Long since superseded the cultivation
Of Pierian roses.


Written by Ruth Padel | Create an image from this poem

The Appointment

 Flamingo silk. New ruff, 
the ivory ghost 
of a halter. Chestnut curls,

*

commas behind the ear.
"Taller, by half a head, 
than my Lord Walsingham."

*

His Devon-cream brogue,
malt eyes. New cloak 
mussed in her mud.

*

The Queen leans forward,
a rosy envelope of civet.
A cleavage

*

whispering seed pearls.
Her own sleeve 
rubs that speck of dirt

*

on his cheek. Three thousand 
ornamental fruit baskets
swing in the smoke.

*

"It is our pleasure 
to have our servant trained 
some longer time 

*

in Ireland." Stamp out 
marks of the Irish.
Their saffron smocks.

*

All curroughs, bards
and rhymers. Desmonds
and Fitzgeralds

*

stuck on low spikes,
an avenue of heads to
the war tent.


*

Kerry timber 
sold to the Canaries.
Pregnant girls

*

hung in their own hair
on city walls. Plague 
crumpling gargoyles

*

through Munster. "They spoke 
like ghosts crying
out of their graves."
Written by Charles Baudelaire | Create an image from this poem

To A Brown Beggar-maid

 WHITE maiden with the russet hair, 
Whose garments, through their holes, declare 
That poverty is part of you, 
And beauty too. 

To me, a sorry bard and mean, 
Your youthful beauty, frail and lean, 
With summer freckles here and there, 
Is sweet and fair. 

Your sabots tread the roads of chance, 
And not one queen of old romance 
Carried her velvet shoes and lace 
With half your grace. 

In place of tatters far too short 
Let the proud garments worn at Court 
Fall down with rustling fold and pleat 
About your feet; 

In place of stockings, worn and old, 
Let a keen dagger all of gold 
Gleam in your garter for the eyes 
Of rou?s wise; 

Let ribbons carelessly untied 
Reveal to us the radiant pride 
Of your white bosom purer far 
Than any star; 

Let your white arms uncovered shine, 
Polished and smooth and half divine; 
And let your elfish fingers chase 
With riotous grace 

The purest pearls that softly glow, 
The sweetest sonnets of Belleau, 
Offered by gallants ere they fight 
For your delight; 

And many fawning rhymers who 
Inscribe their first thin book to you 
Will contemplate upon the stair 
Your slipper fair; 

And many a page who plays at cards, 
And many lords and many bards, 
Will watch your going forth, and burn 
For your return; 

And you will count before your glass 
More kisses than the lily has; 
And more than one Valois will sigh 
When you pass by. 

But meanwhile you are on the tramp, 
Begging your living in the damp, 
Wandering mean streets and alley's o'er, 
From door to door; 

And shilling bangles in a shop 
Cause you with eager eyes to stop, 
And I, alas, have not a sou 
To give to you. 

Then go, with no more ornament, 
Pearl, diamond, or subtle scent, 
Than your own fragile naked grace 
And lovely face.
Written by Jonathan Swift | Create an image from this poem

Advice to the Grub Street Verse-writers

 Ye poets ragged and forlorn,
Down from your garrets haste;
Ye rhymers, dead as soon as born,
Not yet consign'd to paste;
I know a trick to make you thrive;
O, 'tis a quaint device:
Your still-born poems shall revive,
And scorn to wrap up spice.
Get all your verses printed fair,
Then let them well be dried;
And Curll must have a special care
To leave the margin wide.

Lend these to paper-sparing Pope;
And when he sets to write,
No letter with an envelope
Could give him more delight.

When Pope has fill'd the margins round,
Why then recall your loan;
Sell them to Curll for fifty pound,
And swear they are your own.
Written by Ellis Parker Butler | Create an image from this poem

New England Magazine

 Upon Bottle Miche the autre day
While yet the nuit was early,
Je met a homme whose barbe was grey,
Whose cheveaux long and curly.

“Je am a poete, sir,” dit he,
“Je live where tres grande want teems—
I’m faim, sir. Sil vous plait give me
Un franc or cinquatite centimes.”

I donne him vingt big copper sous
But dit, “You moderne rhymers
The sacre poet name abuse—
Les poets were old timers.”

“Je know! I know!” he wept, contrite;
“The bards no more suis mighty:
Ils rise no more in eleve flight,
Though some are beaucoup flighty.

“Vous wonder why Je weep this way,
Pour quoi these tears and blubbers?
It is mon fault les bards today
Helas! suis mere earth-grubbers.

“There was a time when tout might see
My grande flights dans the saddle;
Crowned rois, indeed, applauded me
Le Pegasus astraddle.

“Le winged horse avec acclaim
Was voted mon possession;
Je rode him tous les jours to fame;
Je led the whole procession.

“Then arrivee the Prussian war—
The siege—the sacre famine—
Then some had but a crust encore,
We mange the last least ham-an’

“Helas! Mon noble winged steed
Went oft avec no dinner;
On epics il refusee feed
And maigre grew, and thinner!

“Tout food was gone, and dans the street
Each homme sought crusts to sate him—
Joyeux were those with horse’s meat,
And Pegasus! Je ate him!”

My anger then Je could not hide—
To parler scarcely able
“Oh! curses dans you, sir!” Je cried;
“Vous human livery stable!”

He fled! But vous who read this know
Why mon pauvre verse is beaten
By that of cinquante years ago
‘Vant Pegasus fut eaten!


Written by William Shakespeare | Create an image from this poem

Sonnet XXXVIII

 How can my Muse want subject to invent,
While thou dost breathe, that pour'st into my verse
Thine own sweet argument, too excellent
For every vulgar paper to rehearse?
O, give thyself the thanks, if aught in me
Worthy perusal stand against thy sight;
For who's so dumb that cannot write to thee,
When thou thyself dost give invention light?
Be thou the tenth Muse, ten times more in worth
Than those old nine which rhymers invocate;
And he that calls on thee, let him bring forth
Eternal numbers to outlive long date.
If my slight Muse do please these curious days,
The pain be mine, but thine shall be the praise.
Written by William Shakespeare | Create an image from this poem

Sonnet 38: How can my Muse want subject to invent

 How can my Muse want subject to invent
While thou dost breathe, that pour'st into my verse
Thine own sweet argument, too excellent
For every vulgar paper to rehearse?
O, give thyself the thanks, if aught in me
Worthy perusal stand against thy sight,
For who's so dumb that cannot write to thee,
When thou thyself dost give invention light?
Be thou the tenth Muse, ten times more in worth
Than those old nine which rhymers invocate;
And he that calls on thee, let him bring forth
Eternal numbers to outlive long date.
If my slight Muse do please these curious days,
The pain be mine, but thine shall be the praise.
Written by Robert William Service | Create an image from this poem

LEnvoi

 Ever in the ebb and flow
Of my dreams that come and go,
Reader, I have you in mind,
Humbly hoping you will find
In my verse a gleam that's true
To the dreams that live in you.

Though my lines I link with rhyme
I scarce deem them worth a dime;
Nay, I think 'tis I who ought
To repay your kindly thought,
Gleaning in the words I waste
One or two to fit your taste.

Please you, lift this little book,
Riffle it with careless look;
Dip in it,--oh just a glance,
Give a beggar bard a chance . . .
Rhymers may have readers who
Tune to them,--may one be you!
Written by William Shakespeare | Create an image from this poem

Sonnet XXXVIII: How Can My Muse Want Subject to Invent

 How can my muse want subject to invent,
While thou dost breathe, that pour'st into my verse
Thine own sweet argument, too excellent
For every vulgar paper to rehearse?
O! give thy self the thanks, if aught in me
Worthy perusal stand against thy sight;
For who's so dumb that cannot write to thee,
When thou thy self dost give invention light? 
Be thou the tenth Muse, ten times more in worth
Than those old nine which rhymers invocate;
And he that calls on thee, let him bring forth
Eternal numbers to outlive long date.
If my slight muse do please these curious days,
The pain be mine, but thine shall be the praise.

Book: Radiant Verses: A Journey Through Inspiring Poetry