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Full Online Book HomeAuthor David MortonPage 1
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Ships In Harbour Ships In Harbour

Ships In Harbour
I have not known a quieter thing than ships, Nor any dreamers steeped in dream as these, For all that they have tracked disastrous seas, And winds that left their sails in flagging strips; Nothing disturbs them now, no stormy grips That once had hurt their sides, no crash or swell, Nor can the fretful harbour quite dispel This quiet that they learned on lonely trips. They have no part in all the noisy noons;... Poems - Post by : MrChange - Date : October 2011 - Author : David Morton - Read : 1914

Snow Dusk Snow Dusk

Snow Dusk
The iron twilight closes, and the steep Gates of the day where late the light was hurled, Swing to on silent hinges, and a sleep, A still, white sleep is fallen on the world. There is no stir these trackless miles around: The Earth is turned a grey cathedral close, Where is forgot all motion and all sound, Beneath these smooth, obliterating snows. One burning taper trembles ... and the sky Curves like... Poems - Post by : sev7en - Date : October 2011 - Author : David Morton - Read : 3110

Impostor Impostor

Impostor
This Autumn of the yellow lanes Is come a sorry vagabond, Grown tearful now and over-fond Of grey and melancholy rains. He loves his griefs and broken sighs, His sorrows of a thousand years,-- And thinks we do not know those tears Are wood-smoke in his eyes. If leaves go by us in a gust, He needs must clutch his heart, and say: "Alas" or else "Alack-a-day"--... Poems - Post by : Nenad - Date : October 2011 - Author : David Morton - Read : 2173

Revival Revival

Revival
This body, gathering slumber as it goes, Will come too full of sleep for wandering, And so lie down,--and yet it somehow knows It never could be careless of the Spring; But turning with the happy-minded earth, When straying Aprils stir the sentient mould, It still will know these festivals of mirth, These subtle sorceries of green and gold. And we may yet discover, after all, How flesh is glory whitening on the... Poems - Post by : VacationForFree - Date : October 2011 - Author : David Morton - Read : 591

Prone Prone

Prone
Here where these grasses thrust between my fingers, And where the earth against my palms is cool, The hot day dies ... and only late light lingers Above the shadowed valley's misty pool. The trees have bent above me like tall lovers, The stars return their slow, familiar way, And a great, stirless quiet comes and covers The traveller resting at the end of day. I think this body, with its foolish fears,... Poems - Post by : spiky - Date : October 2011 - Author : David Morton - Read : 1247

An Abandoned Inn An Abandoned Inn

An Abandoned Inn
Along this stillness steals their ghostly laughter: The oaths they swore, the clamant song and jest, Are haunting still each oaken beam and rafter, That looked on many a gay, forgotten guest. The clink of cups, the muffled clang of swords, These, and the flapping cards, will not be stilled, Though dust has spread the long-abandoned boards, And hides at last the crimson wine they spilled. And still, they say, on sullen nights of rain,... Poems - Post by : smallzer - Date : October 2011 - Author : David Morton - Read : 2493

Mariners Mariners

Mariners
Men who have loved the ships they took to sea, Loved the tall masts, the prows that creamed with foam, Have learned, deep in their hearts, how it might be That there is yet a dearer thing than home. The decks they walk, the rigging in the stars, The clean boards counted in the watch they keep,-- These, and the sunlight on the slippery spars, Will haunt them ever, waking and asleep. Ashore, these men are not... Poems - Post by : tayfusion - Date : October 2011 - Author : David Morton - Read : 1455

The Year Is Old The Year Is Old

The Year Is Old
Day fades with fading colours from the sky, And blue smoke blowing where the hills are gold, Is all a tale of loveliness gone by: Summer is ended, and the year is old, Beauty and bloom are wet leaves in the grass, And music is a lone wind on the hill, Crying that all things beautiful must pass, Crying that beauty is remembered still. There will be wood-mist moving by the gate, There... Poems - Post by : Noelien04 - Date : October 2011 - Author : David Morton - Read : 1920

The Veil The Veil

The Veil
Here where the snow comes whitely down, All worldiness is done; The saintly, silent little Town Is like a nun; Most holy in her street and spire, Most perfectly at rest,-- Ah, God, who knows what hid desire Is in her breast, Where peony or daffodil Or wayward rose begins, Burning her drifted bosom, still, Like secret sins.(The end)David Morton's poem: Veil... Poems - Post by : aussiedave - Date : October 2011 - Author : David Morton - Read : 649

An Old Gardener An Old Gardener

An Old Gardener
He has always a wise and knowing air: For him there is no mystery in the mould, Where seeds put on the shimmering things they wear, And come to birth in yellow, green, and gold. His quizzical, grey eyes can somehow mark The silver shaft of sunlight where it goes, Still radiant and undarkened in the dark, To find the seed room of the hidden rose. For him the secret alchemies are plain;... Poems - Post by : tatters - Date : October 2011 - Author : David Morton - Read : 925

Fugitive Fugitive

Fugitive
Behind these falling curtains of the rain, Beauty goes by, a phantom on the hill, A timid fugitive beyond the lane, In rainy silver,--and so shy and still That only peering eyes of some hid bird, Or furry ears that listened by a stone, Could guess at Something neither seen nor heard, Finding escape, and faring by, alone. For eyes like ours, too faint a thing and fleet, Too lightly running for such... Poems - Post by : blunt - Date : October 2011 - Author : David Morton - Read : 2311

This Lane In May This Lane In May

This Lane In May
A fragrance lingers, though the rains be done; And apple-trees have shaken from their hair The thin and shining blossoms, one by one, Starring the roadway like a silver stair. And something softer than the rain comes by, Older and dearer than these bright, new days: An odour ... or a trick of lights that lie Familiar on these grass-grown, rutted ways. This lane in May is such a haunted thing, For all... Poems - Post by : 50117 - Date : October 2011 - Author : David Morton - Read : 2889

Sonnets From A Hospital Sonnets From A Hospital

Sonnets From A Hospital
I SPRING Remembering sunlight on the steepled square, Remembering April's way with little streets, And pouter pigeons coasting down the air, Spilling a beauty, like white-crested fleets,-- I have imagined, in these pain-racked days, The look of grasses thrusting through the earth, Of tender shoots along green-bordered ways, Of hedges, and their first, frail blossoming mirth. I have imagined, too, in some such wise Death may allow, within her... Poems - Post by : zimbie - Date : October 2011 - Author : David Morton - Read : 2721

Rendezvous Rendezvous

Rendezvous
... So she came back to you and me, She who had been the lovely third ... A little, blue ghost in time for tea; Smiling and grave and with no word Of how things fare with such as she, But suddenly lonely when she heard, In that still place, the fragile clink Of tea cups, and her own dear name, 'Twas like her to be touched, I think, With smiling pity for you and me;-- So, in a breathless haste,... Poems - Post by : KristinNichole - Date : October 2011 - Author : David Morton - Read : 2156

Attendants Attendants

Attendants
The mild-eyed Oxen and the gentle Ass, By manger or in pastures that they graze, Lift their slow heads to watch us where we pass, A reminiscent wonder in their gaze. Their low humility is like a crown, A grave distinction they have come to wear,-- Their look gone past us--to a little Town, And a white miracle that happened there. An old, old vision haunts those quiet eyes, Where proud remembrance drifts... Poems - Post by : kentrg - Date : October 2011 - Author : David Morton - Read : 510

To One Returned From A Journey To One Returned From A Journey

To One Returned From A Journey
You have come home with old seas in your speech, And glimmering sea-roads meeting in your mind: The curve of creeping silver up the beach, And mornings whose white splendours daze and blind. You have brought word of ships and where they go, Their names like music, and the flags they fly: Steamer ... and barque ... and churning tug and tow, And a lone sail at sunset blowing by. Shoreline and mist have still their ancient... Poems - Post by : Joe_D. - Date : October 2011 - Author : David Morton - Read : 925

Nomenclature Nomenclature

Nomenclature
There is a magic in the shining name, A legacy that beauty yields to speech, Something more quick and subtle than her fame,-- Who else had blown beyond our stunted reach. By what occult divining does the will Fashion the cryptic word whose sound and sense Evoke the trembling image, lovely still, Of something lost but for this recompense? There have been ships whose names were music's own; But speak them--and the lifted... Poems - Post by : jesuz99 - Date : October 2011 - Author : David Morton - Read : 2753

Survival Survival

Survival
Men building ships, and women cooking meals, The mothering girl-child with her doll in arms, The ploughman trudging at his horse's heels, The fires we lay, our chill at war's alarms:-- These epic, ancient gestures of the race Have still the greatness of those great who wrought In other days than ours, who keep their place Along our shadowy borderlands of thought. A word evokes them,--aye, a lifted hand Stirs slumbrous queens whose... Poems - Post by : crispycorn - Date : October 2011 - Author : David Morton - Read : 2654

In Summer In Summer

In Summer
I think these stars that draw so strangely near, That lean and listen for the turning earth, Are never wholly careless when they hear The murmur of her hushed and quiet mirth,-- But looking out upon a world in bloom, They half-remember, and they heed and hark: An old, old sweetness in the scented gloom, An old, old music in the singing dark. Their own full Summers gone, such aeons past, Bird-song and... Poems - Post by : pcmarket - Date : October 2011 - Author : David Morton - Read : 3378

For Bob: A Dog For Bob: A Dog

For Bob: A Dog
(In Memoriam) You, who would never leave us to our sleeping, But ever nosed us out of bed to play, How can we ever think of you as keeping So strangely still, as stirless as the clay? We cannot think you dead to games and laughter; Surely in some bright place beyond the sun, Girls race and play, and you go racing after, And lie across their feet when games are done. Who knows, but... Poems - Post by : nhusss - Date : October 2011 - Author : David Morton - Read : 1052