English

Fountains that frisk and sprinkle
The moss they overspill;
Pools that the breezes crinkle;
The wheel beside the mill,
With its wet, weedy frill;
Wind-shadows in the wheat;
A water-cart in the street;
The fringe of foam that girds
An islet's ferneries;
A green sky's minor thirds--
To live, I think of these!

Of ice and glass the tinkle,
Pellucid, silver-shrill;
Peaches without a wrinkle;
Cherries and snow at will,
From china bowls that fill
The senses with a sweet
Incuriousness of heat;

Fountain of Sweets! Eternal Dove!
Which leav'st Thy glorious perch above,
And hovering down, vouchsafest thus
To make Thy nest below with us.

Soft as Thy softest feathers, may
We find Thy love to us to-day;
And in the shelter of Thy wing
Obtain Thy leave and grace to sing.

A fount there is, doth overfling
Green turf and garden walks; in spring
A glory of white blossoming
Shines underneath its guardian tree;
And new-come birds old music sing;
And there, alone and sorrowing,
I found a maid I could not cheer, —

Of beauty meet to be adored,
The daughter of the castle's lord;
Methought the melody outpour'd
By all the birds unceasingly,
The season sweet, the verdant sward,
Might gladden her, and eke my word
Her grief dismiss, would she but hear.

Found in the garden—dead in his beauty.
Ah, that a linnet should die in the spring!
Bury him, comrades, in pitiful duty,
Muffle the dinner bell, solemnly ring.

Bury him kindly—up in the corner;
Bird, beast, and goldfish are sepulchred there.
Bid the black kitten march as chief mourner,
Waving her tail like a plume in the air.

Bury him nobly—next to the donkey;
Fetch the old banner, and wave it about.
Bury him deeply—think of the monkey,
Shallow his grave, and the dogs got him out.

Forward! Announce the dust cloud's coming
Revolution in you I see my feet
in you outlaws
I know you are me Forward!
naked radiant angry resentful full of fire
Forward!
in you I see our hunger in you I see
our blood in you
I see our death
Forward! destroy
the authority of lies, those " mind-forged manacles "
Forward!
in you I see
kings' tombs
in the fury and the dust, in you I see
brazen cities driven by sand
turning red, seething in the air, I see a gaping chasm

Forty Viziers saw I go
Up to the Seraglio,
Burning, each and every man,
For the fair Circassian.

Ere the morn had disappeared,
Every Vizier wore a beard;
Ere the afternoon was born,
Every Vizier came back shorn.

" Let the man that woos to win
Woo with an unhairy chin; "
Thus she said, and as she bid
Each devoted Vizier did.

From the beards a cord she made,
Looped it to the balustrade,
Glided down and went away
To her own Circassia.

When the Sultan heard, waxed he

A forty-gun frigate from Baltimore came,
Her guns mounted forty, and Richard by name,
Went cruising the channel of old England,
With a noble commander, Paul Jones was the man.

We had not sailed long before we did spy
A large forty-four and a twenty close by,
All these warlike vessels full laden with store;
Our captain pursued them on the bold York shore.

At the hour of twelve Pierce came alongside
With a large speaking trumpet: " Whence came you? " he cried.
" Quick give me an answer, I've hailed you before,

Curie
of the laboratory
of vocabulary
she crushed
the tonnage
of consciousness
congealed to phrases
to extract
a radium of the word.

The toy
become the aesthetic archetype

As if
some patient peasant God
had rubbed and rubbed
the Alpha and Omega
of Form
into a lump of metal


A naked orientation
unwinged unplumed
the ultimate rhythm
has lopped the extremities
of crest and claw
from
the nucleus of flight

The absolute act
of art
conformed
to continent sculpture
— bare as the brow of Osiris —
this breast of revelation

an incandescent curve
licked by chromatic flames

Forth into the warm darkness faring wide —
More silent momently the silent quay —
Towards where the ranks of boats rock to the tide,
Muffling their plaintive gurgling jealously.

With gentle nodding of her gracious snout,
One greets her master till he step aboard:
She flaps her wings impatient to get out;
She runs to plunder, staining every cord.

Full-winged and stealthy like a bird of prey,
All tense the muscles of her seemly flanks;
She, the coy creature that the idle day
Sees idly riding in the idle ranks.