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Written for a Musician

 Hungry for music with a desperate hunger 
I prowled abroad, I threaded through the town; 
The evening crowd was clamoring and drinking, 
Vulgar and pitiful--my heart bowed down-- 
Till I remembered duller hours made noble 
By strangers clad in some suprising grace. 
Wait, wait my soul, your music comes ere midnight 
Appearing in some unexpected place 
With quivering lips,...Read more of this...

Pilates Wifes Dream

 I've quenched my lamp, I struck it in that start
Which every limb convulsed, I heard it fall­
The crash blent with my sleep, I saw depart
Its light, even as I woke, on yonder wall;
Over against my bed, there shone a gleam
Strange, faint, and mingling also with my dream. 

It sunk, and I am wrapt in utter gloom; 
How far is...Read more of this...

The Absinthe Drinkers

 He's yonder, on the terrace of the Cafe de la Paix,
The little wizened Spanish man, I see him every day.
He's sitting with his Pernod on his customary chair;
He's staring at the passers with his customary stare.
He never takes his piercing eyes from off that moving throng,
That current cosmopolitan meandering along:
Dark diplomats from Martinique, pale Rastas from Peru,
An Englishman from...Read more of this...

Population Drifts

 NEW-MOWN hay smell and wind of the plain made her
a woman whose ribs had the power of the hills in
them and her hands were tough for work and there
was passion for life in her womb.
She and her man crossed the ocean and the years that
marked their faces saw them haggling with landlords
and grocers while six children played on the...Read more of this...

Written for a Musician

 HUNGRY for music with a desperate hunger 
I prowled abroad, I threaded through the town; 
The evening crowd was clamoring and drinking, 
Vulgar and pitiful--my heart bowed down-- 
Till I remembered duller hours made noble 
By strangers clad in some suprising grace. 
Wait, wait my soul, your music comes ere midnight 
Appearing in some unexpected place 
With quivering lips,...Read more of this...

The Land of Story-Books

 At evening when the lamp is lit, 
Around the fire my parents sit; 
They sit at home and talk and sing, 
And do not play at anything. 

Now, with my little gun, I crawl 
All in the dark along the wall, 
And follow round the forest track 
Away behind the sofa back. 

There, in the night, where none can...Read more of this...

Fact Or Fable?

 (BISMARCK AND NAPOLEON III.) 
 
 ("Un jour, sentant un royal appétit.") 
 
 {Bk. III. iii., Jersey, September, 1852.} 


 One fasting day, itched by his appetite, 
 A monkey took a fallen tiger's hide, 
 And, where the wearer had been savage, tried 
 To overpass his model. Scratch and bite 
 Gave place, however, to mere...Read more of this...

To My Wife

 I

You buy my freedom with your love.

With every book you catalogue or stamp

My imagination hacks a strand from the hawser

That for three years has held it

In the grubbing estuary of mud and time.

Your early waking with tired eyes

And late return at evening, all

Contribute to the store of images

I love you for: the irony being

Your job is worse than mine

Your...Read more of this...

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