To A Young Writer by Yvor Winters
Achilles Holt, Stanford, 1930 Here for a few short years Strengthen affections; meet, Later, the dull arrears Of age, and be discreet. The angry blood burns low. Some friend of lesser mind Discerns you not; but so Your solitude’s defined. Write little; do it well. Your knowledge will be such, At last, as to dispel […]
Time And The Garden by Yvor Winters
The spring has darkened with activity. The future gathers in vine, bush, and tree: Persimmon, walnut, loquat, fig, and grape, Degrees and kinds of color, taste, and shape. These will advance in their due series, space The season like a tranquil dwelling-place. And yet excitement swells me, vein by vein: I long to crowd the […]
The Slow Pacific Swell by Yvor Winters
Far out of sight forever stands the sea, Bounding the land with pale tranquillity. When a small child, I watched it from a hill At thirty miles or more. The vision still Lies in the eye, soft blue and far away: The rain has washed the dust from April day; Paint-brush and lupine lie against […]
The Moralists by Yvor Winters
You would extend the mind beyond the act, Furious, bending, suffering in thin And unpoetic dicta; you have been Forced by hypothesis to fiercer fact. As metal singing hard, with firmness racked, You formulate our passion; and behind In some harsh moment nowise of the mind Lie the old meanings your advance has packed. No […]
The Journey by Yvor Winters
Snake River Country I now remembered slowly how I came, I, sometime living, sometime with a name, Creeping by iron ways across the bare Wastes of Wyoming, turning in despair, Changing and turning, till the fall of night, Then throbbing motionless with iron might. Four days and nights! Small stations by the way, Sunk far […]
The Fable by Yvor Winters
Beyond the steady rock the steady sea, In movement more immovable than station, Gathers and washes and is gone. It comes, A slow obscure metonymy of motion, Crumbling the inner barriers of the brain. But the crossed rock braces the hills and makes A steady quiet of the steady music, Massive with peace. And listen, […]
The Empty Hills by Yvor Winters
The grandeur of deep afternoons, The pomp of haze on marble hills, Where every white-walled villa swoons Through violence that heat fulfills, Pass tirelessly and more alone Than kings that time has laid aside. Safe on their massive sea of stone The empty tufted gardens ride. Here is no music, where the air Drives slowly […]
Sir Gawaine And The Green Knight by Yvor Winters
Reptilian green the wrinkled throat, Green as a bough of yew the beard; He bent his head, and so I smote; Then for a thought my vision cleared. The head dropped clean; he rose and walked; He fixed his fingers in the hair; The head was unabashed and talked; I understood what I must dare. […]
One Ran Before by Yvor Winters
I could tell Of silence where One ran before Himself and fell Into silence Yet more fair. And this were more A thing unseen Than falling screen Could make of air. ————— The End And that’s the End of the Poem © Poetry Monster, 2021. Poems by topic and subject. Poetry Monster — the ultimate repository […]
On A View Of Pasadena From The Hills by Yvor Winters
From the high terrace porch I watch the dawn. No light appears, though dark has mostly gone, Sunk from the cold and monstrous stone. The hills Lie naked but not light. The darkness spills Down the remoter gulleys; pooled, will stay Too low to melt, not yet alive with day. Below the windows, the lawn, […]
Night Of Battle by Yvor Winters
Europe: 1944 as regarded from a great distance Impersonal the aim Where giant movements tend; Each man appears the same; Friend vanishes from friend. In the long path of lead That changes place like light No shape of hand or head Means anything tonight. Only the common will For which explosion spoke; And stiff on […]
Much In Little by Yvor Winters
Amid the iris and the rose, The honeysuckle and the bay, The wild earth for a moment goes In dust or weed another way. Small though its corner be, the weed Will yet intrude its creeping beard; The harsh blade and the hairy seed Recall the brutal earth we feared. And if no water touch […]
Moonrise by Yvor Winters
The branches, jointed, pointing up and out, shine out like brass. Upon the heavy lip of earth the dog at moments is possessed and screams: The rising moon draws up his blood and hair. ————— The End And that’s the End of the Poem © Poetry Monster, 2021. Poems by topic and subject. Poetry Monster — […]
John Sutter by Yvor Winters
I was the patriarch of the shining land, Of the blond summer and metallic grain; Men vanished at the motion of my hand, And when I beckoned they would come again. The earth grew dense with grain at my desire; The shade was deepened at the springs and streams; Moving in dust that clung like […]
God Of Roads by Yvor Winters
I, peregrine of noon. ————— The End And that’s the End of the Poem © Poetry Monster, 2021. Poems by topic and subject. Poetry Monster — the ultimate repository of world poetry. Poetry Monster — the multilingual library of poetic works. Here you’ll find original poems, poetry translations, ancient verses, ballads and even folk tales. Poetry […]
At The San Francisco Airport by Yvor Winters
To my daughter, 1954 This is the terminal: the light Gives perfect vision, false and hard; The metal glitters, deep and bright. Great planes are waiting in the yard— They are already in the night. And you are here beside me, small, Contained and fragile, and intent On things that I but half recall— Yet […]
An October Nocturne by Yvor Winters
The night was faint and sheer; Immobile, road and dune. Then, for a moment, clear, A plane moved past the moon. O spirit cool and frail, Hung in the lunar fire! Spun wire and brittle veil! And tremblingly slowly higher! Pure in each proven line! The balance and the aim, Half empty, half divine! I […]
Alone by Yvor Winters
I, one who never speaks, Listened days in summer trees, Each day a rustling leaf. Then, in time, my unbelief Grew like my running – My own eyes did not exist, When I struck I never missed. Noon, felt and far away – My brain is a thousand bees. ————— The End And that’s the […]
A Song In Passing by Yvor Winters
Where am I now? And what Am I to say portends? Death is but death, and not The most obtuse of ends. No matter how one leans One yet fears not to know. God knows what all this means! The mortal mind is slow. Eternity is here. There is no other place. The only thing […]
The Tavern by Willa Cather
In the tavern of my heart Many a one has sat before, Drunk red wine and sung a stave, And, departing, come no more. When the night was cold without, And the ravens croaked of storm, They have sat them at my hearth, Telling me my house was warm. As the lute and cup went […]
The house where I was born (10) by Yves Bonnefoy
The house where I was born (10) by Yves Bonnefoy And then life; and once again A house where I was born. Around us The granary above what once had been a church, The gentle play of shadow from the dawn clouds, And in us that smell of the dry straw That had seemed to […]
The house where I was born (09) by Yves Bonnefoy
The house where I was born (09) by Yves Bonnefoy And then the day came When I heard the extraordinary lines in Keats, The evocation of Ruth “when, sick for home, She stood in tears amid the alien corn.” I did not need to search for the meaning Of these words, For it was in […]
The house where I was born (08) by Yves Bonnefoy
The house where I was born (08) by Yves Bonnefoy I open my eyes, yes, it’s the house where I was born, Exactly as it was and nothing more. The same small dining room whose window Gives onto a peach tree that never grows. A man and a woman are seated At this window, facing […]
The house where I was born (07) by Yves Bonnefoy
The house where I was born (07) by Yves Bonnefoy I remember, it was a morning, in summer, The window was half-open, I drew near, I could see my father at the end of the garden. He was motionless, looking for something, I could not tell what, or where, beyond the world, His body was […]
The house where I was born (06) by Yves Bonnefoy
The house where I was born (06) by Yves Bonnefoy I woke up, but I was travelling, The train had rolled throughout the night, It was now going toward huge clouds That were standing, packed together, down there, Dawn rent from time to time by forks of lightning. I watched the advent of the world […]
The house where I was born (05) by Yves Bonnefoy
The house where I was born (05) by Yves Bonnefoy In the same dream I am lying in the hollow of a boat, My forehead and eyes against the curved planks Where I can hear the undercurrents Striking the bottom of the boat. All at once, the prow rises up, And I think that we’ve […]
The house where I was born (04) by Yves Bonnefoy
The house where I was born (04) by Yves Bonnefoy Another time. It was still night. Water slid Silently on the black ground, And I knew that my only task would be To remember, and I laughed, I bent down, I took from the mud A pile of branches and leaves, I lifted up the […]
The house where I was born (03) by Yves Bonnefoy
The house where I was born (03) by Yves Bonnefoy I woke up, it was the house where I was born, It was night, trees were crowding On all sides around our door, I was alone on the doorstep in the cold wind, No, not alone, for two huge beings Were speaking to each other […]
The house where I was born (02) by Yves Bonnefoy
The house where I was born (02) by Yves Bonnefoy I woke up, it was the house where I was born. It was raining softly in all the rooms, I went from one to another, looking at The water that shone on the mirrors Piled up everywhere, some broken or even Pushed between the furniture […]
The house where I was born (01) by Yves Bonnefoy
The house where I was born (01) by Yves Bonnefoy I woke up, it was the house where I was born, Sea foam splashed against the rock, Not a single bird, only the wind to open and close the wave, Everywhere on the horizon the smell of ashes, As if the hills were hiding a […]
The Hawthorn Tree by Willa Cather
Across the shimmering meadows– Ah, when he came to me! In the spring-time, In the night-time, In the starlight, Beneath the hawthorn tree. Up from the misty marsh-land– Ah, when he climbed to me! To my white bower, To my sweet rest, To my warm breast, Beneath the hawthorn tree. Ask of me what the […]
Street In Packingtown by Willa Sibert Cather
IN the gray dust before a frail gray shed, By a board fence obscenely chalked in red, A gray creek willow, left from country days, Flickers pallid in the haze. Beside the gutter of the unpaved street, Tin cans and broken glass about his feet, And a brown whisky bottle, singled out For play from […]
Spanish Johnny by Willa Sibert Cather
The old West, the old time, The old wind singing through The red, red grass a thousand miles – And Spanish Johnny, you! He’d sit beside the water ditch When all his herd was in, And never mind a child, but sing To his mandolin. The big stars, the blue night, The moon-enchanted lane; The […]
Poppies on Ludlow Castle by Willa Cather
Through halls of vanished pleasure, And hold of vanished power, And crypt of faith forgotten, A came to Ludlow tower. A-top of arch and stairway, Of crypt and donjan cell, Of council hall, and chamber, Of wall, and ditch, and well, High over grated turrets Where clinging ivies run, A thousand scarlet poppies Enticed the […]
Paradox by Willa Cather
I knew them both upon Miranda’s isle, Which is of youth a sea-bound seigniory: Misshapen Caliban, so seeming vile, And Ariel, proud prince of minstrelsy, Who did forsake the sunset for my tower And like a star above my slumber burned. The night was held in silver chains by power Of melody, in which all […]
London Roses by Willa Cather
“Rowse, Rowses! Penny a bunch!” they tell you– Slattern girls in Trafalgar, eager to sell you. Roses, roses, red in the Kensington sun, Holland Road, High Street, Bayswater, see you and smell you– Roses of London town, red till the summer is done. Roses, roses, locust and lilac, perfuming West End, East End, wondrously budding […]
Passer-By, These Are Words by Yves Bonnefoy
Passer-By, These Are Words by Yves Bonnefoy Passer-by, these are words. But instead of reading I want you to listen: to this frail Voice like that of letters eaten by grass. Lend an ear, hear first of all the happy bee Foraging in our almost rubbed-out names. It flits between two sprays of leaves, Carrying […]
Arcadian Winter by Willa Cather
Woe is me to tell it thee, Winter winds in Arcady! Scattered is thy flock and fled From the glades where once it fed, And the snow lies drifted white In the bower of our delight, Where the beech threw gracious shade On the cheek of boy and maid: And the bitter blasts make roar […]
Once A Great Love by Yehuda Amichai
Once a great love cut my life in two. The first part goes on twisting at some other place like a snake cut in two. The passing years have calmed me and brought healing to my heart and rest to my eyes. And I’m like someone standing in the Judean desert, looking at a sign: […]
On Rabbi Kook’s Street by Yehuda Amichai
On Rabbi Kook’s Street I walk without this good man– A streiml he wore for prayer A silk top hat he wore to govern, fly in the wind of the dead above me, float on the water of my dreams. I come to the Street of Prophets–there are none. And the Street of Ethiopians–there are […]