Tiger
A poem by Alec Derwent-Hope (1907–2000) by Alec Derwent Hope At noon thepaper tigers roar — Miroslav Holub The paper tigers roar at noon; The sun is hot, the sun is high. They roar in chorus, not in tune, Their plaintive, savage hunting cry. O, when you hear them, stop your ears And […]
The School of Night
A poem by Alec Derwent-Hope (1907–2000) by Alec Derwent Hope What did I study in your School of Night? When your mouth’s first unfathomable yes Opened your body to be my book, I read My answers there and learned the spell aright, Yet, though I searched and searched, could never guess What spirits […]
The Return of Persephone
A poem by Alec Derwent-Hope (1907–2000) by Alec Derwent Hope Gliding through the still air, he made no sound; Wing-shod and deft, dropped almost at her feet, And searched the ghostly regiments and found The living eyes, the tremor of breath, the beat Of blood in all that bodiless underground. She left her […]
The Pleasure of Princes
A poem by Alec Derwent-Hope (1907–2000) by Alec Derwent Hope What pleasures have great princes? These: to know Themselves reputed mad with pride or power; To speak few words — few words and short bring low This ancient house, that city with flame devour; To make old men, their father’s enemies, Drunk on […]
The Gateway
A poem by Alec Derwent-Hope (1907–2000) by Alec Derwent Hope Now the heart sings with all its thousand voices To hear this city of cells, my body, sing. The tree through the stiff clay at long last forces Its thin strong roots and taps the secret spring. And the sweet waters without intermission […]
The Commination
A poem by Alec Derwent-Hope (1907–2000) by Alec Derwent Hope He that is filthy let him be filthy still. Rev. 22.11 Like John on Patmos, brooding on the Four Last Things, I meditate the ruin of friends Whose loss, Lord, brings this grand new curse to mind Now send me foes worth cursing, […]
Standardization
A poem by Alec Derwent-Hope (1907–2000) by Alec Derwent Hope When, darkly brooding on this Modern Age, The journalist with his marketable woes Fills up once more the inevitable page Of fatuous, flatulent, Sunday-paper prose; Whenever the green aesthete starts to whoop With horror at the house not made with hands And when […]
Phallus
A poem by Alec Derwent-Hope (1907–2000) by Alec Derwent Hope This was the gods’ god, The leashed divinity, Divine divining rod And Me within the me. By mindlight tower and tree Its shadow on the ground Throw, and in darkness she Whose weapon is her wound Fends off the knife, the sword, The […]
Parabola
A poem by Alec Derwent-Hope (1907–2000) by Alec Derwent Hope Year after year the princess lies asleep Until the hundred years foretold are done, Easily drawing her enchanted breath. Caught on the monstrous thorns around the keep, Bones of the youths who sought her, one by one Rot loose and rattle to the […]
Observation Car
A poem by Alec Derwent-Hope (1907–2000) by Alec Derwent Hope To be put on the train and kissed and given my ticket, Then the station slid backward, the shops and the neon lighting, Reeling off in a drunken blur, with a whole pound note in my pocket And the holiday packed with Perhaps. […]
Morning Coffee
A poem by Alec Derwent-Hope (1907–2000) by Alec Derwent Hope Reading the menu at the morning service: – Iced Venusberg perhaps, or buttered bum; Orders the usual sex-ersatz, and, nervous, Glances around; Will she or won’t she come? The congregation dissected into pews Gulping their strip teas in the luminous cavern Agape’s sacamental […]
Meditation on a Bone
A poem by Alec Derwent-Hope (1907–2000) by Alec Derwent Hope A piece of bone, found at Trondhjem in 1901, with the following runic inscription (about A.D. 1050) cut on it: I loved her as a maiden; I will not trouble Erlend’s detestable wife; better she should be a widow. Words scored upon a […]
Easter Hymn
A poem by Alec Derwent-Hope (1907–2000) by Alec Derwent Hope Make no mistake; there will be no forgiveness; No voice can harm you and no hand will save; Fenced by the magic of deliberate darkness You walk on the sharp edges of the wave; Trouble with soul again the putrefaction Where Lazarus three […]
Death of the Bird
A poem by Alec Derwent-Hope (1907–2000) by Alec Derwent Hope For every bird there is this last migration; Once more the cooling year kindles her heart; With a warm passage to the summer station Love pricks the course in lights across the chart. Year after year a speck on the map, divided By […]
Crossing the Frontier
A poem by Alec Derwent-Hope (1907–2000) by Alec Derwent Hope Crossing the frontier they were stopped in time, Told, quite politely, they would have to wait: Passports in order, nothing to declare And surely holding hands was not a crime Until they saw how, ranged across the gate, All their most formidable friends […]
Conquistador
A poem by Alec Derwent-Hope (1907–2000) by Alec Derwent Hope I sing of the decline of Henry Clay Who loved a white girl of uncommon size. Although a small man in a little way, He had in him some seed of enterprise. Each day he caught the seven-thirty train To work, watered his […]
Commination
A poem by Alec Derwent-Hope (1907–2000) by Alec Derwent Hope He that is filthy let him be filthy still. Rev. 22.11 Like John on Patmos, brooding on the Four Last Things, I meditate the ruin of friends Whose loss, Lord, brings this grand new curse to mind Now send me foes worth cursing, […]
Australia
A poem by Alec Derwent-Hope (1907–2000) by Alec Derwent Hope A Nation of trees, drab green and desolate grey In the field uniform of modern wars, Darkens her hills, those endless, outstretched paws Of Sphinx demolished or stone lion worn away. They call her a young country, but they lie: She is the […]
Whispering In Wattle Boughs
Whispering in Wattle -Boughs by Adam Lindsay Gordon OH, gaily sings the bird! and the wattle-boughs are stirred And rustled by the scented breath of Spring; Oh, the dreary wistful longing! Oh, the faces that are thronging! Oh, the voices that are vaguely whispering! Oh, tell me, father mine, ere the good […]
Thoras Song Ashtaroth
Thora’s Song (‘Ashtaroth’) by Adam Lindsay Gordon We severed in Autumn early, Ere the earth was torn by the plough; The wheat and the oats and the barley Are ripe for the harvest now. We sunder’d one misty morning Ere the hills were dimm’d by the rain; Through the flowers those hills […]
The Swimmer
The Swimmer by Adam Lindsay Gordon With short, sharp violent lights made vivid, To the southward far as the sight can roam, Only the swirl of the surges livid, The seas that climb and the surfs that comb, Only the crag and the cliff to nor’ward, And rocks receding, and reefs flung […]
The Sick Stockrider
The Sick Stockrider by Adam Lindsay Gordon Hold hard, Ned! Lift me down once more, and lay me in the shade. Old man, you’ve had your work cut out to guide Both horses, and to hold me in the saddle when I swayed, All through the hot, slow, sleepy, silent ride. The […]
The Last Leap
The Last Leap by Adam Lindsay Gordon ALL is over! fleet career, Dash of greyhound slipping thongs, Flight of falcon, bound of deer, Mad hoof-thunder in our rear, Cold air rushing up our lungs, Din of many tongues. Once again, one struggle good, One vain effort;—he must dwell Near the shifted post, […]
Gone
Gone by Adam Lindsay Gordon IN Collins Street standeth a statute tall, A statue tall, on a pillar of stone, Telling its story, to great and small, Of the dust reclaimed from the sand waste lone; Weary and wasted, and worn and wan, Feeble and faint, and languid and low, He lay […]
An Exiles Farewell
An Exile’s Farewell by Adam Lindsay Gordon The ocean heaves around us still With long and measured swell, The autumn gales our canvas fill, Our ship rides smooth and well. The broad Atlantic’s bed of foam Still breaks against our prow; I shed no tears at quitting home, Nor will I shed […]
A Song Of Autumn
A Song of Autumn by Adam Lindsay Gordon ‘WHERE shall we go for our garlands glad At the falling of the year, When the burnt-up banks are yellow and sad, When the boughs are yellow and sere? Where are the old ones that once we had, And when are the new ones […]
A Dedication
A Dedication by Adam Lindsay Gordon They are rhymes rudely strung with intent less Of sound than of words, In lands where bright blossoms are scentless, And songless bright birds; Where, with fire and fierce drought on her tresses, Insatiable Summer oppresses Sere woodlands and sad wildernesses, And faint flocks and herds. […]
What Of The Night
To you, who look below, Where little candles glow – Who listen in a narrow street, Confused with noise of passing feet – To you ’tis wild and dark; No light, no guide, no ark, For travellers lost on moor and lea, And ship-wrecked mariners at sea. But they who stand apart, With hushed […]
Vows
Nay, ask me not. I would not dare pretend To constant passion and a life-long trust. They will desert thee, if indeed they must. How can we guess what Destiny will send- Smiles of fair fortune, or black storms to rend What even now is shaken by a gust? The fire will burn, or […]
To Morrow
The lighthouse shines across the sea; The homing fieldfares sing for glee: “Behold the shore!” Alas for shattered wing and breast! The lighthouse breakers make their nest, And hedges bloom for them no more- No more. In their old church the lovers stand. His wedding ring is on her hand, All partings o’er. Alas […]
The Winged Mariners
Through the wild night, the silence and the dark, Through league on league of the uncharted sky, Lonelier than dove of fable from its ark, The fieldfares fly. Mate with his tiny mate, and younglings frail, That only knew the crevice of their tree Until, in faith stupendous, they set sail Across the sea. […]
The Watchman
Through jewelled windows in the walls The tender daylight smiles; Majestic music swells and falls Adown the stately aisles; Shadows of carven roof and rood, Of stony saints and angels, brood Above the altar-glow; They cannot dim the shining face Of one conspicuous in his place Amid the forms below. He that was once […]
The Virgin Martyr
Every wild she-bird has nest and mate in the warm April weather, But a captive woman, made for love – no mate, no nest has she. In the spring of young desire, young men and maids are wed together, And the happy mothers flaunt their bliss for all the world to see: Nature’s sacramental […]
The Vain Question
Why should we court the storms that rave and rend, Safe at our household hearth? Why, starved and naked, without home or friend, Unknowing whence we came or where we wend, Follow from no beginning to no end An uncrowned martyr’s path? Is it worth while to waste our all in vain? To seek, […]
The Soldiers Grave
‘Twas long ago, in the summer-time, On a day as sad as this, That I laid my babe in its father’s arms, And he gave it his farewell kiss; When the army sail’d from the English shores In a mist of sun and rain, To the vine-clad hills and citadels And the olive groves […]
The Silence In The Church
(No. 1.) O Holy Spirit, we entreat, Send down Thy quickening fire; Let Thine own presence, dread and sweet, These waiting hearts in spire. In every thought and word and deed, Breathe Thou the breath of life- The fulness of the grace they need For their appointed strife. Help them to hold, in clasp […]
The Season
And must I wear a silken life, Hemmed in by city walls? And must I give my garden up For theatres and balls? Nay, though the cage be made of gold, ‘Tis better to be free; The green of the green meadows, love, Is quite enough for me. I’d rather ramble through the lanes […]
The Resting Place
“Because I live, ye shall live also.” Calmly the Paschal moonlight now is sleeping On mossy hillock and on headstone grey, Where still our Mother holds in faithful keeping Such as, while living, in her dear arms lay. Ah! loving and beloved, we know ye rest, E’en in the grave, upon her hallow’d breast. […]
The Old Manor House
An old house, crumbling half away, all barnacled and lichen-grown, Of saddest, mellowest, softest grey,-with a grand history of its own- Grand with the work and strife and tears of more than half a thousand years. Such delicate, tender, russet tones of colour on its gables slept, With streaks of gold betwixt the stones, […]
The Old Maids Story
Ay, many and many a year’s gone by, Since the dawn of that day in spring, When we met in the pine-woods, Harry and I, And he gave me this golden ring. I had lovers in plenty, of high degree, Who wooed in my father’s hall; But none were so noble and brave as […]