Invitation To JBC

I
Now spring appears, with beauty crowned
And all is light and life around,
Why comes not Jane? When friendship calls,
Why leaves she not Augusta’s walls?
Where cooling zephyrs faintly blow,
Nor spread the cheering, healthful glow
That glides through each awakened vein,
As skimming o’er the spacious plain,
We look around with joyous eye,
And view no boundaries but the sky.

Already April’s reign is o’er,
Her evening tints delight no more;
No more the violet scents the gale,
No more the mist o’erspreads the vale;
The lovely queen of smiles and tears,
Who gave thee birth, no more appears;
But blushing May, with brow serene,
And vestments of a livelier green,
Commands the winged choir to sing,
And with wild notes the meadows ring.

O come! ere all the train is gone,
No more to hail thy twenty-one;
That age which higher honour shares,
And well become the wreath it wears.
From lassitude and cities flee,
And breathe the air of heaven, with me.
Rating:

Comment form:

*Max text - 1500. Manual moderation.

Similar Poems:

Hugh Selwyn Mauberley Part II by Ezra Pound
Ezra Pound
1920 (Mauberley)
I

Turned from the“eau-forte
Read Poem
0
93
Rating:

Notes for an Elegy by William Meredith
William Meredith
The alternative to flying is cowardice,
And what is said against it excuses, excuses;
Its want was always heavy in those men’s bodies
Who foresaw it in some detail; and failing that,
The rest were shown through its skyey heats and eases
In sleep, awoke uncertain whether their waking cry
Had been falling fear only, or love and falling fear.
When the sudden way was shown, its possibility
Read Poem
0
107
Rating:

My Nodebook for December by Keith Waldrop
Keith Waldrop
for Ihab Hassan 1

Closing the door is supposed to open some
Read Poem
0
76
Rating:

A Winter Piece by William Cullen Bryant
William Cullen Bryant

The time has been that these wild solitudes,
Yet beautiful as wild, were trod by me
Oftener than now; and when the ills of life
Had chafed my spirit—when the unsteady pulse
Beat with strange flutterings—I would wander forth
And seek the woods. The sunshine on my path
Was to me a friend. The swelling hills,
The quiet dells retiring far between,
With gentle invitation to explore
Their windings, were a calm society
That talked with me and soothed me. Then the chant
Of birds, and chime of brooks, and soft caress
Of the fresh sylvan air, made me forget
The thoughts that broke my peace, and I began
Read Poem
0
81
Rating:

brothers by Lucille Clifton
Lucille Clifton
(being a conversation in eight poems between an aged Lucifer and God, though only Lucifer is heard. The time is long after.) 1
invitation

Read Poem
0
95
Rating:

The Frog Footman and the Fish Footman by William H. Dickey
William H. Dickey
Aiee! It is the ceremony of the first blades of winter.
Horticulture, horticulture, the little steam train says puffing up the mountainside.
As if he had never known a home of his own, only ditches.
Three stomps with a stone stump and the colloquium started.
Beggars under the drainpipe, another hand’s cast of the bone dice.
Whatever name the event has, it can be understood as an invitation.
Epilepsy, epilepsy, the little steam train said, descending at evening.
They bowed so low that their wigs tangled and I had to laugh.
Read Poem
0
70
Rating:

The Day of Wrath / Dies Iræ by Ambrose Bierce
Ambrose Bierce
Day of Satan's painful duty!
Earth shall vanish, hot and sooty;
So says Virtue, so says Beauty.

Ah! what terror shall be shaping
When the Judge the truth's undraping—
Cats from every bag escaping!
Read Poem
0
85
Rating:

Ex Libris by Eleanor Wilner
Eleanor Wilner
By the stream, where the ground is soft
and gives, under the slightest pressure—even
the fly would leave its footprint here
and the paw of the shrew the crescent
of its claws like the strokes of a chisel
in clay; where the lightest chill, lighter
than the least rumor of winter, sets the reeds
to a kind of speaking, and a single drop of rain
Read Poem
0
65
Rating: