Section: «Poems»
Verse (ancient Greek ὁ στίχος — row, structure), a term in versification used in several meanings:
artistic speech organized by division into rhythmically commensurate segments; poetry in the narrow sense; in particular, it implies the properties of versification of a particular tradition ("antique verse", "Akhmatova's verse", etc.);
a line of poetic text organized according to a certain rhythmic pattern ("My uncle of the most honest rules").
All's Well
Watchman, watchman, what of the night,What of the night to tell?The heavens are dark, and never a lightBut the far-off flicker of Hell.But the steed..
© Francis William Bourdillon
Here And There
'HERE'Soft benediction of September sun;Voices of children, laughing as they run;Green English lawns, bright flowers and butterflies;And over all the..
© Francis William Bourdillon
The Debt Unpayable
What have I given,Bold sailor on the sea?In earth or heaven,That you should die for me?What can I give,O soldier, leal and brave,Long as I live,To..
© Francis William Bourdillon
Eurydice
HE came to call me back from deathTo the bright world above.I hear him yet with trembling breathLow calling, “O sweet love!Come back! The earth is..
© Francis William Bourdillon
On The South Downs
Light falls the rainOn link and laine,After the burning day;And the bright scene,Blue, gold, and green,Is blotted out in gray.Not so will partThe..
© Francis William Bourdillon
A Spring Evening
Across the Glory of the glowing skies,A veil is drawn of shadowed mists that riseFrom lavishness from God's late gift. the rain.So, after farewell..
© Francis William Bourdillon
A Violinist
THE LARK above our heads doth knowA heaven we see not here below;She sees it, and for joy she sings;Then falls with ineffectual wings.Ah, soaring..
© Francis William Bourdillon
The Night Has A Thousand Eyes
The night has a thousand eyes,And the day but one;Yet the light of the bright world diesWith the dying sun.The mind has a thousand eyes,And the heart..
© Francis William Bourdillon
Old And Young
LONG ago, on a bright spring day,I passed a little child at play;And as I passed, in childish gleeShe called to me, “Come and play with me!”But my..
© Francis William Bourdillon
Night
The night has a thousand eyes,And the day but one;Yet the light of the bright world diesWith the dying sun.The mind has a thousand eyes,And the heart..
© Francis William Bourdillon
Elegy: Walking the Line
Every month or so, Sundays, we walked the line,The limit and the boundary. Past the sweet gumSuperb above the cabin, along the wall—Stones gathered..
© Edgar Bowers
Dedication for a House
We, who were long together homeless, raiseBrick walls, wood floors, a roof, and windows upTo what sustained us in those threatening daysUnto this..
© Edgar Bowers
Mary
The angel of self-discipline, her guardianSince she first knew and had to go awayFrom home that spring to have her child with strangers,Sustained..
© Edgar Bowers
Clear-Seeing
Bavaria, 1946The clairvoyante, a major general’s wife,The secretaries’ sibyl, read the lettersThey brought her from their GI..
© Edgar Bowers
Autumn Shade
1The autumn shade is thin. Grey leaves lie faintWhere they will lie, and, where the thick green was,Light stands up, like a presence, to the sky.The..
© Edgar Bowers
Clothes
Walking back to the office after lunch,I saw Hans. “Mister Isham, Mister Isham,”He called out in his hurry, “Herr Wegner needs you.A woman waiting..
© Edgar Bowers
The Poet Orders His Tomb
I summon up Panofskv from his bedAmong the famous deadTo build a tomb which, since I am not read,Suffers the stone’s mortality instead;Which, by the..
© Edgar Bowers
The Mountain Cemetery
With their harsh leaves old rhododendrons fillThe crevices in grave plots' broken stones.The bees renew the blossoms they destroy,While in the..
© Edgar Bowers
An Afternoon At The Beach
I’ll go among the dead to see my friend.The place I leave is beautiful: the seaRepeats the winds’ far swell in its long sound,And, there beside it..
© Edgar Bowers
The Virgin Considered As A Picture
Her unawed face, whose pose so long assumedIs touched with what reality we feel,Bends to itself and, to itself resumed,Restores a tender fiction to..
© Edgar Bowers
John
Before he wrote a poem, he learned the measureThat living in the future gives a farm--Propinquity of mules and cows, the charmedInsouciance of hens..
© Edgar Bowers
The Stoic: For Laura Von Courten
All winter long you listened for the boomOf distant cannon wheeled into their place.Sometimes outside beneath a bombers’ moonYou stood alone to watch..
© Edgar Bowers
For Louis Pasteur
How shall a generation know its storyIf it will know no other? When, amongThe scoffers at the Institute, PasteurHeard one deny the cause of..
© Edgar Bowers
Amor Vincit Omnia
Love is no more.It died as the mind dies: the pure desireRelinquishing the blissful form it wore,The ample joy and clarity expire.Regret is vain.Then..
© Edgar Bowers
Pancake Party
Friends and family, big and small,Pancakes make us smile all.Flip, stack, eat, laugh, and play,Happy, happy Pancake Day!
© National Pancake Day