Buttonholes
Cut a little opening
And overcast it, then
(Throwing the thread across each stitch)
Stitch it round again.
A moment's stitching finds it
Finished ; but not until
The sun has burned its beauty out
And dropped behind the hill.
Poems on the topic: sun
Poems on the topic “sun” on Poets.by.
Flash
I am less of myself and more of the sun;
The beat of life is wearing me
To an incomplete oblivion,
Yet not to the certain dignity
Of death. They cannot even die
Who have not lived.
The hungry jaws
Of space snap at my unlearned eye,
And time tears in my flesh like claws.
If I am not life's, if I am not death's.
Out of chaos I must re-reap
The burden of untasted breaths.
Who has not waked may not yet sleep.
Sun Glamour
The day has brought me sun-loaned cheer,
And to unchangeable ways, change . . .
But dusk is here to make them strange,
Making them clear.
A Child Dancing
A child with unmanageable feet
Skips on the street below;
The wind has invited her to race,
The sun is a kiss upon her face
And the world a great applauding place.
I know . . .
She dances now with timid step,
Light as new leaves blow.
Her skirts are wings of butterflies,
And with every feathery grace she tries
Her feet cry out life's glad surprise .
I know . . .
Company
A footstep sounded from the street .
Listening, I knew of you!
With the good singing of your feet
You came in, too.
Companioned by the sun and rain.
Mingling with the winds at will.
You passed, but in your step's refrain
I have you still.
While We Sleep
The earth takes up our bodies, every one,
And brings them slowly backward to the dark ;
Then on her shadowed side we droop and slumber,
Turned from the sun.
(Meanwhile He covers continents in light
One after other, so they stretch and wake,
Live their day through and droop again to slumber :
Day, night : day, night.)
The stars shine forth and disappear again,
Roaring about in space above our heads,
While we are folded to the earth in slumber
With dreaming brain.
We travel through the darkness : we are spun
Upward through rays of light into the morning ;
We waken with the earth : we glide from slumber
Toward the sun.
Proving
Were you a leper bathed in wounds
And by the world denied,
I’d share your fatal exile
As a privilege, with pride.
You are the very sun, the moon,
The starlight of my soul,
The sounding motif of my heart
Its impetus and goal!
Break, Break My Heart
Break, break my heart
For love is done,
The pale light trails the dying sun—
And night awaits—no hope—no stars
Darkness
Hide my scars!
Tired Girl
Put her away some place between two hills,
Away from the sea and the sun.
She has so much to think of — must she run
On your bright bosom always, Mother Earth ?
Put her away, and let some other birth
Bring her back to the sound of the sea, and the sun.
After she ponders under silent hills,
Beneath your swarming bosom, Mother Earth,
She will have words for her beloved one.
I Have Moved West
I have moved west, I travel with the sun;
You cannot hold, you cannot hinder me.
There are no ends for what I have begun —
There are no resting places where I run,
Until I am surrendered to the sea.
The Mystic
The mystic sits by the sacred stream
Watching the sun as it mounts the sky;
And life to him is a haunting dream
Or a motley pageant passing by.
Sorrow and joy go on their way,
Passion and lust and love and hate;
Only a band of mummers they,
Blindly led by the hand of fate.
Though the pageant is real and himself the dream,
Though men are born and strive and die,
Yet the mystic sits by the sacred stream
Watching the sun go down the sky.
On the Road in February
I THOUGHT she was a country squire's daughter:
Along the leafless hedges drowned in sun,
She galloped on her pony — coat undone,
And hair flung up like golden flakes of water.
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