Famous Glorying Poems by Famous Poets

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To Virgil Written at the Request of the Mantuans for the N

 Roman Virgil, thou that singest
Ilion's lofty temples robed in fire,
Ilion falling, Rome arising,
wars, and filial faith, and Dido's pyre;
Landscape-lover, lord of language
more than he that sang the "Works and Days,"
All the chosen coin of fancy
flashing out from many a golden phrase;
Thou that singest wheat and woodland,
tilth and vineyard, hive and horse and herd;
All the charm of all the Muses
often...Read more of this...

Nursing You

 On the first night
of the full moon,
the primeval sack of ocean
broke,
& I gave birth to you
little woman,
little carrot top,
little turned-up nose,
pushing you out of myself
as my mother
pushed
me out of herself,
as her mother did,
& her mother's mother before her,
all of us born
of woman.

I am the second daughter
of a second daughter
of a second daughter,
but you shall be the first.
You shall see...Read more of this...

To Virgil

 Written at the Request of the Mantuans for the Nineteenth Centenary of 
Virgil's Death


Roman Virgil, thou that singest
Ilion's lofty temples robed in fire,
Ilion falling, Rome arising,
wars, and filial faith, and Dido's pyre;

Landscape-lover, lord of language
more than he that sang the Works and Days,
All the chosen coin of fancy
flashing out from many a golden phrase;

Thou that singest wheat and woodland,
tilth...Read more of this...

Sonnet LV

SONNET LV. Or hai fatto l' estremo di tua possa. DEATH MAY DEPRIVE HIM OF THE SIGHT OF HER BEAUTIES, BUT NOT OF THE MEMORY OF HER VIRTUES.  Now hast thou shown, fell Death! thine utmost might.Through Love's bright realm hast want and darkness spread,Hast now cropp'd beauty's flower, its heavenly lightQuench'd,...Read more of this...

Finistere

 Hurrah! I'm off to Finistere, to Finistere, to Finistere;
My satchel's swinging on my back, my staff is in my hand;
I've twenty louis in my purse, I know the sun and sea are there,
And so I'm starting out to-day to tramp the golden land.
I'll go alone and glorying, with on my lips a song of joy;
I'll leave behind the city...Read more of this...

The Eviction

 In early morning twilight, raw and chill, 
Damp vapours brooding on the barren hill, 
Through miles of mire in steady grave array 
Threescore well-arm'd police pursue their way;
Each tall and bearded man a rifle swings, 
And under each greatcoat a bayonet clings: 
The Sheriff on his sturdy cob astride 
Talks with the chief, who marches by their side,
And, creeping...Read more of this...

Wind in the Beechwood

 The glorying forest shakes and swings with glancing 
Of boughs that dip and strain; young, slanting sprays 
Beckon and shift like lissom creatures dancing, 
While the blown beechwood streams with drifting rays. 
Rooted in steadfast calm, grey stems are seen
Like weather-beaten masts; the wood, unfurled, 
Seems as a ship with crowding sails of green 
That sweeps across the lonely...Read more of this...

Limitations

 If you could crowd them into forty lines! 
Yes; you can do it, once you get a start; 
All that you want is waiting in your head, 
For long-ago you’ve learnt it off by heart. 

. . . . 
Begin: your mind’s the room where you have slept,
(Don’t pause for rhymes), till twilight woke you early. 
The window stands...Read more of this...

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