ocritus Poems

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Sonnet 01 - I thought once how Theocritus had sung

 I thought once how Theocritus had sung
Of the sweet years, the dear and wished-for years,
Who each one in a gracious hand appears
To bear a gift for mortals, old or young:
And, as I mused it in his antique tongue,
I saw, in gradual vision through my tears,
The sweet, sad years, the melancholy years,
Those of my own life, who by turns had...Read more of this...

The First Step

 The young poet Evmenis
complained one day to Theocritus:
"I've been writing for two years now
and I've composed only one idyll.
It's my single completed work.
I see, sadly, that the ladder
of Poetry is tall, extremely tall;
and from this first step I'm standing on now
I'll never climb any higher."
Theocritus retorted: "Words like that
are improper, blasphemous.
Just to be on the first step
should make you...Read more of this...

Sonnets from the Portuguese i

I THOUGHT once how Theocritus had sung 
Of the sweet years the dear and wish'd-for years  
Who each one in a gracious hand appears 
To bear a gift for mortals old or young: 
And as I mused it in his antique tongue 5 
I saw in gradual vision through my tears 
The sweet sad years the melancholy years¡ª 
Those...Read more of this...

The Wanderers Storm-song

 [Goethe says of this ode, that it is the only 
one remaining out of several strange hymns and dithyrambs composed 
by him at a period of great unhappiness, when the love-affair between 
him and Frederica had been broken off by him. He used to sing them 
while wandering wildly about the country. This particular one was 
caused by his...Read more of this...

I

 I thought once how Theocritus had sung
Of the sweet years, the dear and wished-for years,
Who each one in a gracious hand appears
To bear a gift for mortals, old or young:
And, as I mused it in his antique tongue,
I saw, in gradual vision through my tears,
The sweet, sad years, the melancholy years,
Those of my own life, who by turns had...Read more of this...

328. Poem on Pastoral Poetry

 HAIL, Poesie! thou Nymph reserv’d!
In chase o’ thee, what crowds hae swerv’d
Frae common sense, or sunk enerv’d
 ’Mang heaps o’ clavers:
And och! o’er aft thy joes hae starv’d,
 ’Mid a’ thy favours!


Say, Lassie, why, thy train amang,
While loud the trump’s heroic clang,
And sock or buskin skelp alang
 To death or marriage;
Scarce ane has tried the shepherd-sang
 But wi’ miscarriage?


In...Read more of this...