"hearest" poems
Knows he who tills this lonely field
To reap its scanty corn,
What mystic fruit his acres yield
At midnight and at morn?
In the long sunny afternoon,
The plain was full of ghosts,
I wandered up, I wandered down,
Beset by pensive hosts.
The winding Concord gleamed below,
Pouring as wide a flood
As when my brothers long ago,
Came with me to the wood.
But they are gone,— the holy ones,
Who trod with me this lonely vale,
The strong, star-bright companions
Are silent, low, and pale.
My good, my noble, in their prime,
Who made this world the feast it was,
Who learned with me the lore of time,
Who loved this dwelling-place.
They took this valley for their toy,
They played with it in every mood,
A cell for prayer, a hall for joy,
They treated nature as they would.
They colored the horizon round,
Stars flamed and faded as they bade,
All echoes hearkened for their sound,
They made the woodlands glad or mad.
I touch this flower of silken leaf
Which once our childhood knew
Its soft leaves wound me with a grief
Whose balsam never grew.
Hearken to yon pine warbler
Singing aloft in the tree;
Hearest thou, O traveller!
What he singeth to me?
Not unless God made sharp thine ear
With sorrow such as mine,
Out of that delicate lay couldst thou
The heavy dirge divine.
Go, lonely man, it saith,
They loved thee from their birth,
Their hands were pure, and pure their faith,
There are no such hearts on earth.
Ye drew one mother's milk,
One chamber held ye all;
A very tender history
Did in your childhood fall.
Ye cannot unlock your heart,
The key is gone with them;
The silent ***** loudest chants
The master's requiem.
2.4k
Knows he who tills this lonely field
To reap its scanty corn,
What mystic fruit his acres yield
At midnight and at morn?
In the long sunny afternoon,
The plain was full of ghosts,
I wandered up, I wandered down,
Beset by pensive hosts.
The winding Concord gleamed below,
Pouring as wide a flood
As when my brothers long ago,
Came with me to the wood.
But they are gone,— the holy ones,
Who trod with me this lonely vale,
The strong, star-bright companions
Are silent, low, and pale.
My good, my noble, in their prime,
Who made this world the feast it was,
Who learned with me the lore of time,
Who loved this dwelling-place.
They took this valley for their toy,
They played with it in every mood,
A cell for prayer, a hall for joy,
They treated nature as they would.
They colored the horizon round,
Stars flamed and faded as they bade,
All echoes hearkened for their sound,
They made the woodlands glad or mad.
I touch this flower of silken leaf
Which once our childhood knew
Its soft leaves wound me with a grief
Whose balsam never grew.
Hearken to yon pine warbler
Singing aloft in the tree;
Hearest thou, O traveller!
What he singeth to me?
Not unless God made sharp thine ear
With sorrow such as mine,
Out of that delicate lay couldst thou
The heavy dirge divine.
Go, lonely man, it saith,
They loved thee from their birth,
Their hands were pure, and pure their faith,
There are no such hearts on earth.
Ye drew one mother's milk,
One chamber held ye all;
A very tender history
Did in your childhood fall.
Ye cannot unlock your heart,
The key is gone with them;
The silent ***** loudest chants
The master's requiem.
1.6k
Thy September wind is most winsome today.
Seest the lovliest of lilacs and lillies sway ?
Seest the daintiest of daisies dance away ?
Seest the tangoing tulips seductive at play?
Seest them now, beckoning thee?
Hearest the lissome buttercups rejoice?
Hearest the lucid charm in their voice?
Hearest the lithe of the Myrtle tree?
Hearest them now , whispering to thee?
Nov 26, 2010
Nov 26, 2010 at 2:26 PM UTC
Once a Knight always a Knight
(but is once a day enough?)
Once the Queen has dubbed thee
thou art a Knight forevermore
but should thouest knock more than once
on thine lovers door
to spend a life known as Sir
not quite as good as Sire for sure
but to feel the lips of your love
behind closed doors not so demure
if making love to her just once
can completely fulfillest thine dreams
just imagine how wonderful then
to hearest her multiple screams
that would surely dependeth of course
if thouest were using thine sword correctly
and providing a thorough tongue lashing
applying thine tongue directly
me thinks proving yourself worthy
to thine country and Queen more than fluff
but hugs and kisses for your lady of love
once a day not nearly enough
Gomer LePoet ....
Jun 5, 2013
Jun 5, 2013 at 11:40 AM UTC
O little bird, why dost thou flit so,
Filling the skies with they song of woe?
Knowest thou not that a storm doth come?
Hearest thou not the thunder’s celestial drum?
It thrashes and thrums with such terrible din,
Wresting away thy song as though t’was but a sin.
Fly, little bird, fly away swift and true,
‘Til the heavens are once again swathed only in blue.
Feb 24, 2020
Feb 24, 2020 at 6:45 PM UTC
Thy voice rolls on the handsome air;
I hearest thee on the violet grass;
Thou standest above the drifted haze;
And in this setting thou art fair.
Thou looked gay and pleasing to me;
And thy gallant charms blinded me
And though I may have loved in vain
Thou maketh me mad, love is insane;
What is with thy striking blue eyes
And two hauntingly sweet lips;
I heard thee writ in last night's sleep
And draw my roses in the skies.
Far off thou art, and ne'er near;
Although I wish thou could but hear
How long I hath wished for, and still
Thou shalt not seek the love I feel.
Far off thou art, and ne'er here;
Although I wish thou could be near
How long I hath loved, every day
Thou shalt not leave for me today.
Far off thou art, and ne'er hear;
Although I wish thou could be near
How long I hath opened my heart;
And prayed we would not be apart.
Far off thou art, and ne'er see;
How much I want thee here with me
With just more love days to charm;
To stay by my side, in my arms.
Far off thou art, and ne'er know;
How much I could love tomorrow
With just enough at heart to see;
With just enough love to love me.
Apr 20, 2016
Apr 20, 2016 at 2:06 AM UTC