Blizzard by William Carlos Williams
Snow falls: years of anger following hours that float idly down— the blizzard drifts its weight deeper and deeper for three days or sixty years, eh? Then the sun! a clutter of yellow and blue flakes— Hairy looking trees stand out in long alleys over a wild solitude. The man turns and there— his solitary […]
Berket And The Stars by William Carlos Williams
A day on the boulevards chosen out of ten years of student poverty! One best day out of ten good ones. Berket in high spirits—”Ha, oranges! Let’s have one!” And he made to snatch an orange from the vender’s cart. Now so clever was the deception, so nicely timed to the full sweep of certain […]
Aux Imagistes by William Carlos Williams
I think I have never been so exalted As I am now by you, O frost bitten blossoms, That are unfolding your wings From out the envious black branches. Bloom quickly and make much of the sunshine The twigs conspire against you Hear them! They hold you from behind You shall not take wing Except […]
Arrival by William Carlos Williams
And yet one arrives somehow, finds himself loosening the hooks of her dress in a strange bedroom- feels the autumn dropping its silk and linen leaves about her ankles. The tawdry veined body emerges twisted upon itself like a winter wind . . . ! ————— The End And that’s the End of the Poem […]
April Is The Saddest Month by William Carlos Williams
There they were stuck dog and bitch halving the compass Then when with his yip they parted oh how frolicsome she grew before him playful dancing and how disconsolate he retreated hang-dog she following through the shrubbery ————— The End And that’s the End of the Poem © Poetry Monster, 2021. Poems by topic and subject. […]
Après le Bain by William Carlos Williams
I gotta buy me a new girdle. (I’ll buy you one) O.K. (I wish you’d wig- gle that way for me, I’d be a happy man) I GOTTA wig- gle for this. (You pig) ————— The End And that’s the End of the Poem © Poetry Monster, 2021. Poems by topic and subject. Poetry Monster — […]
Approach Of Winter by William Carlos Williams
The half-stripped trees struck by a wind together, bending all, the leaves flutter drily and refuse to let go or driven like hail stream bitterly out to one side and fall where the salvias, hard carmine— like no leaf that ever was— edge the bare garden. ————— The End And that’s the End of the […]
A Sort Of A Song by William Carlos Williams
Let the snake wait under his weed and the writing be of words, slow and quick, sharp to strike, quiet to wait, sleepless. —through metaphor to reconcile the people and the stones. Compose. (No ideas but in things) Invent! Saxifrage is my flower that splits the rocks. ————— The End And that’s the End of […]
A Goodnight by William Carlos Williams
Go to sleep—though of course you will not— to tideless waves thundering slantwise against strong embankments, rattle and swish of spray dashed thirty feet high, caught by the lake wind, scattered and strewn broadcast in over the steady car rails! Sleep, sleep! Gulls’ cries in a wind-gust broken by the wind; calculating wings set above […]
A Celebration by William Carlos Williams
A middle-northern March, now as always— gusts from the South broken against cold winds— but from under, as if a slow hand lifted a tide, it moves—not into April—into a second March, the old skin of wind-clear scales dropping upon the mold: this is the shadow projects the tree upward causing the sun to shine […]
The Swamp Fox by William Gilmore Simms
WE follow where the Swamp Fox guides, His friends and merry men are we; And when the troop of Tarleton rides, We burrow in the cypress tree. The turfy hammock is our bed, Our home is in the red deer’s den, Our roof, the tree-top overhead, For we are wild and hunted men. We fly […]
The Decay Of A People by William Gilmore Simms
THIS the true sign of ruin to a race— It undertakes no march, and day by day Drowses in camp, or, with the laggard’s pace, Walks sentry o’er possessions that decay; Destined, with sensible waste, to fleet away;— For the first secret of continued power Is the continued conquest;—all our sway Hath surety in the […]
The Bard by William Gilmore Simms
Where dwells the spirit of the Bard–what sky Persuades his daring wing,– Folded in soft carnation, or in snow Still sleeping, far o’er summits of the cloud, And, with a seeming, sweet unconsciousness, Wooing his plume, through baffling storms to fly, Assured of all that ever yet might bless The spirit, by love and loftiest […]
The Angel Of The Church by William Gilmore Simms
I. Aye, strike with sacrilegious aim The temple of the living God; Hurl iron bolt and seething flame Through aisles which holiest feet have trod; Tear up the altar, spoil the tomb, And, raging with demoniac ire, Send down, in sudden crash of doom, That grand, old, sky-sustaining spire. II. That spire, for full a […]
Sumter In Ruins by William Gilmore Simms
I. Ye batter down the lion’s den, But yet the lordly beast g’oes free; And ye shall hear his roar again, From mountain height, from lowland glen, From sandy shore and reedy fen– Where’er a band of freeborn men Rears sacred shrines to liberty. II. The serpent scales the eagle’s nest, And yet the royal […]
Song In March by William Gilmore Simms
NOW are the winds about us in their glee, Tossing the slender tree; Whirling the sands about his furious car, March cometh from afar; Breaks the sealed magic of old Winter’s dreams, And rends his glassy streams; Chafing with potent airs, he fiercely takes Their fetters from the lakes, And, with a power by queenly […]
William Gilmore Simms – William Gilmore Simms
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Morris Island by William Gilmore Simms
Oh! from the deeds well done, the blood well shed In a good cause springs up to crown the land With ever-during verdure, memory fed, Wherever freedom rears one fearless band, The genius, which makes sacred time and place, Shaping the grand memorials of a race! The barren rock becomes a monument, The sea-shore sands […]
Hast Thou A Song For A Flower by William Gilmore Simms
I. HAST thou a song for a flower, Such as, if breathed in its ear, Would waken in beauty’s own bower The spirit most fit to be there? Then, minstrel, I challenge thy power– Such song, if thou hast, sing it here!– Here, where the breeze o’erwearied, With his travel o’er ocean creeps, And on […]