as lit land poems anthology

8/13/2019 As Lit Land Poems Anthology

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As the team's head-brass flashed outby Edward Thomas

1. As the team's head-brass flashed out on the turn2. The lovers disappeared into the wood.3. I sat among the boughs of the fallen elm4. That strewed the angle of the fallow, and5. Watched the plough narrowing a yellow square6. Of charlock. Every time the horses turned7. Instead of treading me down, the ploughman leaned8. Upon the handles to say or ask a word,9. About the weather, next about the war.10.Scraping the share he faced towards the wood,11.And screwed along the furrow till the brass flashed12.

Once more.

13.The blizzard felled the elm whose crest14. I sat in, by a woodpecker's round hole,15.The ploughman said. 'When will they take it away?'16. 'When the war's over.' So the talk began17.One minute and an interval of ten,18.A minute more and the same interval.19. 'Have you been out?' 'No.' 'And don't want to, perhaps?'20. 'If I could only come back again, I should.21. I could spare an arm, I shouldn't want to lose22.A leg. If I should lose my head, why, so,


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23. I should want nothing more...Have many gone24.From here?' 'Yes.' 'Many lost?' 'Yes, a good few.25.Only two teams work on the farm this year.26.One of my mates is dead. The second day27. In France they killed him. It was back in March,28.The very night of the blizzard, too. Now if29.He had stayed here we should have moved the tree.'30. 'And I should not have sat here. Everything31.

Would have been different. For it would have been

32.Another world.' 'Ay, and a better, though33. If we could see all all might seem good.' Then34.The lovers came out of the wood again:35.The horses started and for the last time36. I watched the clods crumble and topple over37.After the ploughshare and the stumbling team.


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Beeny Cliff

by Thomas Hardy

I

1. The opal and the sapphire of that wandering western sea,2. And the woman riding high above with bright hair flapping free-3. The woman whom I loved so, and who loyally loved me.

I I

4. The pale mews plained below us, and the waves seemed far away5. In a nether sky, engrossed in saying their ceaseless babbling say,6. As we laughed light-heartedly aloft on that clear-sunned March day.

III

7. A little cloud then cloaked us, and there flew an irised rain,8. And the Atlantic dyed its levels with a dull misfeatured stain,9. And then the sun burst out again, and purples prinked the main.

IV

10.Still in all its chasmal beauty bulks old Beeny to the sky,11.And shall she and I not go there once again now March is nigh,12.And the sweet things said in that March say anew there by and by?


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V

13.What if still in chasmal beauty looms that wild weird western shore,14.The woman now is-elsewhere-whom the ambling pony bore,15.And nor knows nor cares for Beeny, and will laugh there nevermore.


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BermudasAndrew Marvell

1. Where the remote Bermudas ride2. In th oceans bosom unespyd,3. From a small boat, that rowdalong,4. The listning winds receivd this song.

5. What should we do but sing his praise6. That led us through the watry maze7. Unto an isle so long unknown,8. And yet far kinder than our own?9. Where he the huge sea-monsters wracks,10.That lift the deep upon their backs,11.He lands us on a grassy stage,12.Safe from the storms and prelates rage.13.He gave us this eternal spring14.Which here enamels everything,15.And sends the fowls to us in care,16.On daily visits through the air.17.He hangs in shades the orange bright,18.Like golden lamps in a green night;19.And does in the pomegranates close20.Jewels more rich than Ormus shows.21.He makes the figs our mouths to meet22.And throws the melons at our feet,


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23.But apples plants of such a price,24.No tree could ever bear them twice.25.With cedars, chosen by his hand,26.From Lebanon, he stores the land,27.And makes the hollow seas that roar28.Proclaim the ambergris on shore.29.He cast (of which we rather boast)30.The Gospels pearl upon our coast,31.

And in these rocks for us did frame

32.A temple, where to sound his name.33.Oh let our voice his praise exalt,34.Till it arrive at heavens vault;35.Which thence (perhaps) rebounding, may36.Echo beyond the Mexic Bay.

37.Thus sung they in the English boat38.An holy and a cheerful note,39.And all the way, to guide their chime,40.With falling oars they kept the time.


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The BightElizabeth Bishop

1. At low tide like this how sheer the water is.2. White, crumbling ribs of marl protrude and glare3. and the boats are dry, the pilings dry as matches.4. Absorbing, rather than being absorbed,5. the water in the bight doesn't wet anything,6. the color of the gas flame turned as low as possible.7. One can smell it turning to gas; if one were Baudelaire8. one could probably hear it turning to marimba music.9. The little ocher dredge at work off the end of the dock10.already plays the dry perfectly off-beat claves.11.The birds are outsize. Pelicans crash12. into this peculiar gas unnecessarily hard,13. it seems to me, like pickaxes,14.rarely coming up with anything to show for it,15.and going off with humorous elbowings.16.Black-and-white man-of-war birds soar17.on impalpable drafts18.and open their tails like scissors on the curves19.or tense them like wishbones, till they tremble.20.The frowsy sponge boats keep coming in21.with the obliging air of retrievers,22.bristling with jackstraw gaffs and hooks23.and decorated with bobbles of sponges.24.There is a fence of chicken wire along the dock


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25.where, glinting like little plowshares,26.the blue-gray shark tails are hung up to dry27. for the Chinese-restaurant trade.28.Some of the little white boats are still piled up29.against each other, or lie on their sides, stove in,30.and not yet salvaged, if they ever will be, from the last bad storm,31. like torn-open, unanswered letters.32.The bight is littered with old correspondences.33.

Click. Click. Goes the dredge,

34.and brings up a dripping jawful of marl.35.All the untidy activity continues,36.awful but cheerful.


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Binsey Poplars - Gerard Manley Hopkins

1. My aspens dear, whose airy cages quelled,2. Quelled or quenched in leaves the leaping sun,3. All felled, felled, are all felled;4. Of a fresh and following folded rank5. Not spared, not one6. That swam or sank7.

On meadow and river and wind-wandering

8. weed-winding bank.9. O if we but knew what we do10.When we delve or hew-11.Hack and rack the growing green!12.Since country is so tender13.To touch, her being so slender,14.That, like this sleek and seeing ball15.But a prick will made no eye at all,16.Where we, even where we mean17.To mend her we end her,18.When we hew or delve:19.After-comers cannot guess the beauty been.20.Ten or twelve, only ten or twelve21.Strokes of havoc unselve22.The sweet especial scene,23.Rural scene, a rural scene,24.Sweet especial rural scene.


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BirchesRobert Frost

1. When I see birches bend to left and right2. Across the lines of straighter darker trees,3. I like to think some boy's been swinging them.4. But swinging doesn't bend them down to stay5. As ice-storms do. Often you must have seen them6. Loaded with ice a sunny winter morning7. After a rain. They click upon themselves8. As the breeze rises, and turn many-colored9. As the stir cracks and crazes their enamel.10.Soon the sun's warmth makes them shed crystal shells11.Shattering and avalanching on the snow-crust12.

Such heaps of broken glass to sweep away

13.You'd think the inner dome of heaven had fallen.14.They are dragged to the withered bracken by the load,15.And they seem not to break; though once they are bowed16.So low for long, they never right themselves:17.You may see their trunks arching in the woods18.Years afterwards, trailing their leaves on the ground19.Like girls on hands and knees that throw their hair20.Before them over their heads to dry in the sun.21.But I was going to say when Truth broke in22.With all her matter-of-fact about the ice-storm23. I should prefer to have some boy bend them


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24.As he went out and in to fetch the cows25.Some boy too far from town to learn baseball,26.Whose only play was what he found himself,27.Summer or winter, and could play alone.28.One by one he subdued his father's trees29.By riding them down over and over again30.Until he took the stiffness out of them,31.And not one but hung limp, not one was left32.

For him to conquer. He learned all there was

33.To learn about not launching out too soon34.And so not carrying the tree away35.Clear to the ground. He always kept his poise36.To the top branches, climbing carefully37.With the same pains you use to fill a cup38.Up to the brim, and even above the brim.39.Then he flung outward, feet first, with a swish,40.Kicking his way down through the air to the ground.41.So was I once myself a swinger of birches.42.And so I dream of going back to be.43. It's when I'm weary of considerations,44.And life is too much like a pathless wood45.Where your face burns and tickles with the cobwebs46.Broken across it, and one eye is weeping47.From a twig's having lashed across it open.48. I'd like to get away from earth awhile49.And then come back to it and begin over.


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50.May no fate willfully misunderstand me51.And half grant what I wish and snatch me away52.Not to return. Earth's the right place for love:53. I don't know where it's likely to go better.54. I'd like to go by climbing a birch tree,55.And climb black branches up a snow-white trunk56.Towardheaven, till the tree could bear no more,57.But dipped its top and set me down again.58.

That would be good both going and coming back.

59.One could do worse than be a swinger of birches.


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Crossing the WaterSylvia Plath

1. Black lake, black boat, two black, cut-paper people.2. Where do the black trees go that drink here?3. Their shadows must cover Canada.4. A little light is filtering from the water flowers.5. Their leaves do not wish us to hurry:6. They are round and flat and full of dark advice.7. Cold worlds shake from the oar.8. The spirit of blackness is in us, it is in the fishes.9. A snag is lifting a valedictory, pale hand;10.Stars open among the lilies.11.Are you not blinded by such expressionless sirens?12.This is the silence of astounded souls.


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Desert PlacesRobert Frost

1. Snow falling and night falling fast, oh, fast2. In a field I looked into going past,3. And the ground almost covered smooth in snow,4. But a few weeds and stubble showing last.

5. The woods around it have it - it is theirs.6. All animals are smothered in their lairs.7. I am too absent-spirited to count;8. The loneliness includes me unawares.

9. And lonely as it is, that loneliness10.Will be more lonely ere it will be less11.A blanker whiteness of benighted snow12.With no expression, nothing to express.

13.They cannot scare me with their empty spaces14.Between stars - on stars where no human race is.15. I have it in me so much nearer home16.To scare myself with my own desert places.


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The FloodJohn Clare

1. On Lolham Brigs in wild and lonely mood2. I've seen the winter floods their gambols play3. Through each old arch that trembled while I stood4. Bent o'er its wall to watch the dashing spray5. As their old stations would be washed away6. Crash came the ice against the jambs and then7. A shudder jarred the arches - yet once more8. It breasted raving waves and stood agen9. To wait the shock as stubborn as before10. - White foam brown crested with the russet soil11.As washed from new plough lands would dart beneath12.Then round and round a thousand eddies boil13.On tother side - then pause as if for breath14.One minute - and engulphed - like life in death

15.Whose wrecky stains dart on the floods away16.More swift than shadows in a stormy day17.Straws trail and turn and steady - all in vain18.The engulfing arches shoot them quickly through19.The feather dances flutters and again20.Darts through the deepest dangers still afloat21.Seeming as faireys whisked it from the view22.And danced it o'er the waves as pleasures boat


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23.Light hearted as a thought in May24.Trays - uptorn bushes - fence demolished rails25.Loaded with weeds in sluggish motions stray26.Like water monsters lost each winds and trails27.Till near the arches - then as in affright28. It plunges - reels - and shudders out of sight

29.Waves trough - rebound - and fury boil again30.

Like plunging monsters rising underneath

31.Who at the top curl up a shaggy main32.A moment catching at a surer breath33.Then plunging headlong down and down - and on34.Each following boil the shadow of the last35.And other monsters rise when those are gone36.Crest their fringed waves - plunge onward and are past37. - The chill air comes around me ocean blea38.From bank to bank the waterstrife is spread39.Strange birds like snow spots o'er the huzzing sea40.Hang where the wild duck hurried past and fled41.On roars the flood - all restless to be free42.Like trouble wandering to eternity


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How the old Mountains drip with SunsetEmily Dickinson

1. How the old mountains drip with sunset,2. And the brake of dun!3. How the hemlocks are tipped in tinsel4. By the wizard sun!

5. How the old steeples hand the scarlet,6. Till the ball is full, --7. Have I the lip of the flamingo8. That I dare to tell?

9. Then, how the fire ebbs like billows,10.Touching all the grass11.With a departing, sapphire feature,12.As if a duchess pass!

13.How a small dusk crawls on the village14.Till the houses blot;15.And the odd flambeaux no men carry16.Glimmer on the spot!

17.Now it is night in nest and kennel,18.And where was the wood,19.Just a dome of abyss is nodding20. Into solitude!


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21.These are the visions baffled Guido;22.Titian never told;23.Domenichino dropped the pencil,24.Powerless to unfold.


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In Time of The Breaking of Nations

Thomas Hardy

1. Only a man harrowing clods2. In a slow silent walk3. With an old horse that stumbles and nods4. Half asleep as they stalk.

5. Only thin smoke without flame6. From the heaps of couch-grass;7. Yet this will go onward the same8. Though Dynasties pass.

9.

Yonder a maid and her wight

10.Come whispering by:11.War's annals will cloud into night12.Ere their story die.


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Interruption to a JourneyNorman MacCaignumber

1. The hare we had run over2. Bounced about the road3. On the springing curve4. Of its spine.

5. Cornfields breathed in the darkness,6. We were going through the darkness and7. The breathing cornfields from one8. Important place to another.

9. We broke the hares neck10.And made that place, for a moment,11.The most important place there was,12.Where a bowstring was cut

13.And a bow broken forever14.That had shot itself through so many15.Darknesses and cornfields.

16. It was left in that landscape.17. It left us in another.


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LandscapesT S Eliot

I. New Hampshire1. Children's voices in the orchard2. Between the blossom- and the fruit-time:3. Golden head, crimson head,4. Between the green tip and the root.5. Black wing, brown wing, hover over;6. Twenty years and the spring is over;7. To-day grieves and to-morrow grieves,8. Cover me over, light-in-leaves;9. Golden head, black wing,10. Cling,swing,11. Spring,sing,12. Swing up into the apple-tree.

II. Virginia13. Red river, red river,14. Slow flow heat is silence15. No will is still as a river16. Still. Will heat move17. Only through the mocking-bird18. Heard once? Still hills19. Wait. Gates wait. Purple trees,20. White trees, wait, wait,21. Delay, decay. Living, living,


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22. Never moving. Ever moving23. Iron thoughts came with me24. And go with me:25. Red river river river.

III. Usk26. Do not suddenly break the branch, or27. Hope to find28.

The white hart over the white well.

29. Glance aside, not for lance, do not spell30. Old enchantments. Let them sleep.31. 'Gently dip, but not too deep',32. Lift your eyes33. Where the roads dip and where the roads rise34. Seek only there35. Where the grey light meets the green air36. The Hermit's chapel, the pilgrim's prayer.

IV. Rannoh, near Glenckow37. Here the crow starves, here the patient stag38. Breeds for the the rifle. Between the soft moor39. and the soft sky, scarcely room40. To leap or to soar. Substance crumbles, in the thin air41. Moon cold or moon hot. The road winds in42. Littlessness of ancient war,43. Langour of broken steel,


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44. Clamour of confused wrong, apt45. In silence. Memory is strong46. Beyond the bone. Pride snapped,47. Shadow of pride is long, in the long pass48. No concurrence of bone.

V. Cape Ann49. O quick quick quick, quick hear the song sparrow,50.

Swamp sparrow, fox-sparrow, vesper sparrow

51. At dawn and dusk. Follow the dance52. Of goldenfinch at noon. Leave to chance53. The Blackburnian wabler, the shy one. Hail54. With shrill whistle the note of the quail, the bob-white55. Dodging the bay-bush. Follow the feet56. Of the walker, the water-thrush. Follow the flight57. Of the dancing arrow, the purple martin. Greet58. In silence the bullbat. All are delectable. Sweet sweet sweet59. But resign this land at the end, resign it60. To its true owner, the tough one, the sea gull.61. The palaver is finished.


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MushroomsSylvia Plath

1.

Overnight, very

2. Whitely, discreetly,3. Very quietly

4. Our toes, our noses5. Take hold on the loam,6. Acquire the air.

7. Nobody sees us,8. Stops us, betrays us;9. The small grains make room.

10.Soft fists insist on11.Heaving the needles,12.The leafy bedding,

13.Even the paving.14.Our hammers, our rams,15.Earless and eyeless,

16.Perfectly voiceless,17.Widen the crannies,18.Shoulder through holes. We


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19.Diet on water,20.On crumbs of shadow,21.Bland-mannered, asking

22.Little or nothing.23.So many of us!24.So many of us!

25.We are shelves, we are26.Tables, we are meek,27.We are edible,

28.Nudgers and shovers

29. In spite of ourselves.30.Our kind multiplies:

31.We shall by morning32. Inherit the earth.33.Our foot's in the door.


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Nutting

William Wordsworth (1799)

1. ---------------------It seems a day2. (I speak of one from many singled out)3. One of those heavenly days that cannot die;4. When, in the eagerness of boyish hope,5. I left our cottage-threshold, sallying forth6. With a huge wallet oer my shoulders slung,7. A nutting-crook in hand; and turned my steps8. Towrd some far-distant wood, a Figure quaint,9. Tricked out in proud disguise of cast-off weeds10.Which for that service had been husbanded,11.By exhortation of my frugal Dame12.Motley accoutrement, of power to smile13.At thorns, and brakes, and brambles,--and, in truth,14.More ragged than need was! Oer pathless rocks,15.Through beds of matted fern, and tangled thickets,16.Forcing my way, I came to one dear nook17.Unvisited, where not a broken bough18.Drooped with its withered leaves, ungracious sign19.Of devastation; but the hazels rose20.Tall and erect, with tempting clusters hung,21.A virgin scene!--A little while I stood,22.Breathing with such suppression of the heart


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23.As joy delights in; and, with wise restraint24.Voluptuous, fearless of a rival, eyed25.The banquet;--or beneath the trees I sate26.Among the flowers, and with the flowers I played;27.A temper known to those, who, after long28.And weary expectation, have been blest29.With sudden happiness beyond all hope.30.Perhaps it was a bower beneath whose leaves31.

The violets of five seasons re-appear

32.And fade, unseen by any human eye;33.Where fairy water-breaks do murmur on34.For ever; and I saw the sparkling foam,35.And--with my cheek on one of those green stones36.That, fleeced with moss, under the shady trees,37.Lay round me, scattered like a flock of sheep38. I heard the murmur and the murmuring sound,39. In that sweet mood when pleasure loves to pay40.Tribute to ease; and, of its joy secure,41.The heart luxuriates with indifferent things,42.Wasting its kindliness on stocks and stones,43.And on the vacant air. Then up I rose,44.And dragged to earth both branch and bough, with crash45.And merciless ravage: and the shady nook46.Of hazels, and the green and mossy bower,47.Deformed and sullied, patiently gave up48.Their quiet being: and, unless I now


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49.Confound my present feelings with the past;50.Ere from the mutilated bower I turned51.Exulting, rich beyond the wealth of kings,52. I felt a sense of pain when I beheld53.The silent trees, and saw the intruding sky54.Then, dearest Maiden, move along these shades55. In gentleness of heart; with gentle hand56.Touch--for there is a spirit in the woods.


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Scotland Small?

Hugh MacDiarmid

1. Scotland small? Our multiform, our infinite Scotland small?2. Only as a patch of hillside may be a cliche corner3. To a fool who cries "Nothing but heather!" Where in September another4. Sitting there and resting and gazing around5. Sees not only heather but blaeberries6. With bright green leaves and leaves already turned scarlet,7. Hiding ripe blue berries; and amongst the sage-green leaves8. Of the bog-myrtle the golden flowers of the tormentil shining;9. And on the small bare places, where the little Blackface sheep10. Found grazing, milkworts blue as summer skies;11. And down in neglected peat-hags, not worked12. In living memory, sphagnum moss in pastel shades13. Of yellow, green and pink; sundew and butterwort14. And nodding harebells vying in their colour15. With the blue butterflies that poise themselves delicately upon them,16. And stunted rowans with harsh dry leaves of glorious colour17."Nothing but heather!" -- How marvellously descriptive! And incomplete!


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Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening

Robert Frost

1. Whose woods these are I think I know.2. His house is in the village though;3. He will not see me stopping here4. To watch his woods fill up with snow.

5. My little horse must think it queer6. To stop without a farmhouse near7. Between the woods and frozen lake8. The darkest evening of the year.

9. He gives his harness bells a shake10.To ask if there is some mistake.11.The only other sounds the sweep12.Of easy wind and downy flake.

13.The woods are lovely, dark and deep.14.But I have promises to keep,15.And miles to go before I sleep,16.And miles to go before I sleep.
http://www.poetryfoundation.org/bio/robert-frosthttp://www.poetryfoundation.org/bio/robert-frost


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A Survey

William Stafford

1.Down in the Frantic Mountains2.they say a canyon winds3.crammed with hysterical water4.hushed by placid sands.

5.They tried to map that country,6.sent out a field boot crew,7.but the river surged at night8.and ripped the map in two.

9.So they sent out wildcats, printed10.with intricate lines of fur,11.to put their paws with such finesse12.the ground was unaware.

13.Now only the wildcats know it,14.patting a tentative paw,15.soothing the hackles of ridges,16.pouring past rocks and away.

17.The sun rakes that land each morning;18.the mountains buck and scream.19.By night the wildcats pad by20.gazing it quiet again.

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