Famous Conspiring Poems by Famous Poets

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The Cautious Lovers

 Silvia, let's from the Crowd retire; 
For, What to you and me 
(Who but each other do desire) 
Is all that here we see? 

Apart we'll live, tho' not alone; 
For, who alone can call 
Those, who in Desarts live with One, 
If in that One they've All? 

The World a vast Meander is, 
Where Hearts confus'dly stray; 
Where...Read more of this...

Psalm 3

 Doubts and fears suppressed.

My God, how many are my fears!
How fast my foes increase!
Conspiring my eternal death,
They break my present peace.

The lying tempter would persuade
There's no relief in heav'n;
And all my swelling sins appear
Too big to be forgiv'n.

But thou, my glory and my strength,
Shalt on the tempter tread,
Shalt silence all my threatening guilt,
And raise my drooping head.

[I cried, and...Read more of this...

The Goose Fish

 On the long shore, lit by the moon
To show them properly alone,
Two lovers suddenly embraced
So that their shadows were as one.
The ordinary night was graced
For them by the swift tide of blood
That silently they took at flood,
And for a little time they prized
Themselves emparadised.

Then, as if shaken by stage-fright
Beneath the hard moon's bony light,
They stood together on the sand
Embarrassed...Read more of this...

Songs For A Colored Singer

 I

A washing hangs upon the line, 
 but it's not mine. 
None of the things that I can see 
 belong to me. 
The neighbors got a radio with an aerial; 
 we got a little portable. 
They got a lot of closet space; 
 we got a suitcase. 

I say, "Le Roy, just how much are we owing?
Something...Read more of this...

Our Fathers Also

 "Below the Mill Dam" --Traffics and Discoveries
Thrones, Powers, Dominions, Peoples, Kings,
Are changing 'neath our hand.
Our fathers also see these things
But they do not understand.

By--they are by with mirth and tears,
Wit or the works of Desire-
Cushioned about on the kindly years
Between the wall and the fire.

The grapes are pressed, the corn is shocked--
Standeth no more to glean;
For the Gates of...Read more of this...

His Age:dedicated To His Peculiar Friendmr John Wickes Under The Name Ofpostumus

 Ah, Posthumus! our years hence fly
And leave no sound: nor piety,
Or prayers, or vow
Can keep the wrinkle from the brow;
But we must on,
As fate does lead or draw us; none,
None, Posthumus, could e'er decline
The doom of cruel Proserpine.

The pleasing wife, the house, the ground
Must all be left, no one plant found
To follow thee,
Save only the curst cypress-tree!
--A merry mind
Looks...Read more of this...

In Memory Of Eva Gore-Booth And Con Markiewicz

 The light of evening, Lissadell,
Great windows open to the south,
Two girls in silk kimonos, both
Beautiful, one a gazelle.
But a raving autumn shears
Blossom from the summer's wreath;
The older is condemned to death,
Pardoned, drags out lonely years
Conspiring among the ignorant.
I know not what the younger dreams -
Some vague Utopia - and she seems,
When withered old and skeleton-gaunt,
An image of such politics.
Many...Read more of this...

To Autumn

SEASON of mists and mellow fruitfulness! 
Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun; 
Conspiring with him how to load and bless 
With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eaves run; 
To bend with apples the moss'd cottage-trees 5 
And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core; 
To swell the gourd and plump the hazel shells 
With a sweet kernel; to...Read more of this...

Psalm III: My God How Many Are My Fears

 My God, how many are my fears!
How fast my foes increase!
Conspiring my eternal death,
They break my present peace.

The lying tempter would persuade
There's no relief from heaven;
And all my swelling sins appear
Too big to be forgiven.

But thou, my glory and my strength,
Shall on the tempter tread,
Shall silence all my threat'ning guilt,
And raise my drooping head.

I cried, and from his holy...Read more of this...

Ode To Autumn

 Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness,
Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun;
Conspiring with him how to load and bless
With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eaves run;
To bend with apples the mossed cottage-trees,
And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core;
To swell the gourd, and plump the hazel shells
With a sweet kernel; to set budding more,
And still more, later flowers...Read more of this...

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