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Summer Sunday

Borne on the low lake wind there floats to me, Out of the distant hill, a sigh of bells, Mystic, worshipful, almost unheard, As though the past should answer me, and I In pagan solitude bow down my head.(The end)Max Eastman's poem: Summer Sunday... Poems - Post by : jgartha - Date : November 2011 - Author : Max Eastman - Read : 3184

The Saint Gaudens Statues

Poet, thy dreams are grateful to the air And the light loves them. Tho' they murmur not, Their carven stillness is a music rare, And like the song of one whose tongue hath caught The clear ethereal essence of his thought. I hear the talkers come, the changing throngs That with the fashions of a day surround Thy visions, and I hear them quell their tongues, And hush their querulous shoes upon the ground; Thy dreams are with the crown of silence crowned-- Though they feel not the glowing diadem,... Poems - Post by : onewil486 - Date : November 2011 - Author : Max Eastman - Read : 2333

To A Tawny Thrush

Pine spirit! Breath and voice of a wild glade! In the wild forest near it, In the cool hemlock or the leafy limb, Whereunder Thou didst run and wander Thro' the sun and shade, An elvish echo and a shadow dim, There in the twilight thou dost lift thy song, And give the stilly woods a silver tongue. Out of what liquid is thy laughing made? A sister of the water thou dost seem, The quivering cataract thou singest near, Whose glistening stream, Unto the listening ear,... Poems - Post by : Priscilla - Date : November 2011 - Author : Max Eastman - Read : 3145

In A Dungeon Of Russia

Scene: A cell leading to the gallows.Characters: A noble lady, who is an assassin. A common murderer. The chilling gray, a ghost of mortal dawn, Has touched them, and they know the hour. The guard Shifts guiltily his shoes upon the stone. They raise their eyes in languid terror; but The moment passes, and 'tis still again-- Save, in some piteous way she moves her throat. There is a wandering of her burning eyes, Until they fix, and strangely stare... Poems - Post by : amnelson999 - Date : November 2011 - Author : Max Eastman - Read : 1776

To The Little Bed At Night

Good-night, little bed, with your patient white pillow, Your light little spread, and your blanket of yellow! I wonder what leaves you so pensive to-night-- The breezes are tender, the stars are so bright, I should think you would wrinkle a little and smile, And be happy to think we can sleep for a while. Are you waiting for something? Or are you just seeming To listen so breathlessly, hushed, as though dreaming A form that is fresher than breezes so light, A coming more precious than stars to the night,... Poems - Post by : uniquelyit - Date : November 2011 - Author : Max Eastman - Read : 1884

To The Flowers At Church

Soft little daughters of the mead, The random bush, the wanton weed, That lived to love, and loved to breed, Who hither bound you? You're innocent of all the screed That blows around you. Sweet daffodils so laughing yellow, Beneath a bending pussy-willow, You need not try to gulp and swallow The Apostles' Creed, Or shudder at the fates that follow Adam's deed. Big bloody hymns the choir sings, And blows it... Poems - Post by : billbelfert - Date : November 2011 - Author : Max Eastman - Read : 2378

In March

On a soaked fence-post a little blue-backed bird, Opening her sweet throat, has stirred A million music-ripples in the air That curl and circle everywhere. They break not shallow at my ear, But quiver far within. Warm days are near!(The end)Max Eastman's poem: In March... Poems - Post by : vonryan - Date : November 2011 - Author : Max Eastman - Read : 1048

Midnight

Midnight is come, And thinly in the deepness of the gloom Truth rises startle-eyed out of a tomb, And we are dumb. A death-bell tolls, And we still shudder round the too smooth bed, For Truth makes pallid watch above the dead, Freezing our souls.... Poems - Post by : holisticpro - Date : November 2011 - Author : Max Eastman - Read : 3149

Leif Ericson

Through the murk of the ocean of history northward and far, I descry thee, O Sailor! Thy deed like the dive of a star Doth startle the ages of darkness through which it is hurled, Doth flash, and flare out, and is gone from the eyes of the world! What watchers beheld thee, and heralding followed thy lead, Or bugled the nations into the track of thy deed? What continent soundeth thy name, what people thy praise? Who sendeth the signal of gratitude back to the days When thou in thy boat didst... Poems - Post by : Jfoster - Date : November 2011 - Author : Max Eastman - Read : 2421

To The Ascending Moon

Rise, rise, aerial creature, fill the sky With supreme wonder, and the bleak earth wash With mystery! Pale, pale enchantress, steer Thy flight high up into the purple blue, Where faint the stars beholding--rain from there Thy lucent influence upon this sphere! I fear thee, sacred mother of the mad! With thy deliberate magic thou of old Didst soothe the perplexed brains of idiots whipped, And scared, and lacerated for their cure-- Ay, thou didst spread the balm of sleep on them, Give to their minds a curvéd... Poems - Post by : GreenHorse - Date : November 2011 - Author : Max Eastman - Read : 3322

The Thought Of Protagoras

My memory holds a tragic hour to prove, Or paint with bleeding stroke, the ancient thought That will to sorrow move all minds forever-- All that love to know. It was the hour When lamps wink yellow in the winter twilight, And the hurriers go home to rest; And we whose task was meditation rose And wound a murmuring way among the books And effigies, the fading fragrance, of A vaulted library--a place to me Most like a dim vast cavernous brain, that holds All the world hath of musty... Poems - Post by : ROIpath - Date : November 2011 - Author : Max Eastman - Read : 1273

Earth's Night

Sombre, Sombre is the night, the stars' light is dimmed With smoky exhalations of the earth, Whose ancient voice is lifted on the wind In ceaseless elegies and songs of tears. O earth, I hear thee mourning for thy dead! Thou art waving the long grass over thy graves; Murmuring over all thy resting children, That have run and wandered and gone down Upon thy bosom. Thou wilt mourn for him Who looketh now a moment on these stars, And in the moving boughs of this dark night Heareth... Poems - Post by : KnarlyNipper - Date : November 2011 - Author : Max Eastman - Read : 3309

At The Aquarium

Serene the silver fishes glide, Stern-lipped, and pale, and wonder-eyed; As through the agéd deeps of ocean, They glide with wan and wavy motion. They have no pathway where they go, They flow like water to and fro. They watch with never winking eyes, They watch with staring, cold surprise, The level people in the air, The people peering, peering there, Who wander also to and fro, And know not why or where they go, Yet have a wonder in their eyes, Sometimes a pale and cold surprise.(The... Poems - Post by : rvrbooks1 - Date : November 2011 - Author : Max Eastman - Read : 3774

Diogenes

A hut, and a tree, And a hill for me, And a piece of a weedy meadow. I'll ask no thing, Of God or King, But to clear away His shadow.(The end)Max Eastman's poem: Diogenes... Poems - Post by : Mike_Whitehead - Date : November 2011 - Author : Max Eastman - Read : 1146

Bobolink

Bright little bird with a downward wing, How many birds within you sing? Two or three at the least it seems, Overflowing golden streams. If I could warble on a wing so strong, Filling five acres full of song, I'd never sit on the grey rail fence, I'd never utter a word of sense, I'd float forever in a light blue sky, Uttering joy to the passers-by!(The end)Max Eastman's poem: Bobolink... Poems - Post by : prosperbiz - Date : November 2011 - Author : Max Eastman - Read : 2118

Daisies

Daisies, daisies, all surprise! Open wide your sunny eyes! See the linnet on the wing; See the crimson feather! See the life in every thing, Sun, and wind, and weather! Shadow of the passer-by, Bare-foot skipping over, Meadow where the heifers lie, Butter-cup, and clover! All is vivid, all is real, All is high surprising! Ye are pure to see and feel; Ye the gift are prizing Men and gods would perish for-- Gods with all their thunder!-- Could they have the thing ye are,... Poems - Post by : csomer - Date : November 2011 - Author : Max Eastman - Read : 3205

Coming Spring

Ice is marching down the river, Gaily out to sea! Sunbeams o'er the snow-hills quiver, Setting torrents free! Yellow are the water-willows, Yellow clouds are they, Rising where the laden billows Swell along their way! Arrows of the sun are flying! Winter flees the light, And his chilly horn is sighing All the moisty night! Lovers of the balmy weather, Lovers of the sun! Drifts and duty melt together-- Get... Poems - Post by : jones7 - Date : November 2011 - Author : Max Eastman - Read : 1981

A Hymn To God In Time Of Stress

Lift, O dark and glorious Wonder, Once again thy gleaming sword, Cleave this killing doubt asunder With one sheer and sacred word! For my heart is weak and broken, And the struggle runs too high, And there is no burning token In the new immortal sky. Oh, not curb or courage only Does my hour demand of me, It is thought supreme and lonely And responsible and free! And I quail before the danger As a bark before the blast, When the beacon star's a stranger... Poems - Post by : jcrasi - Date : November 2011 - Author : Max Eastman - Read : 1529

Rainy Song

Down the dripping pathway dancing through the rain, Brown eyes of beauty, laugh to me again! Eyes full of starlight, moist over fire, Full of young wonder, touch my desire! O like a brown bird, like a bird's flight, Run through the rain drops lithely and light. Body like a gypsy, like a wild queen, Slim brown dress to slip through the green-- The little leaves hold you as soft as a child, The little path loves you, the path that runs wild. Who would not love you, seeing you move,... Poems - Post by : tisinc - Date : November 2011 - Author : Max Eastman - Read : 3854

Sea-shore

The wind blows in along the sea-- Its salty wet caresses Impart to all the ships that be A thrill before it passes. The tide is never at a stand, A mountain in its motion, Forever homing to the land, And ever to the ocean. And on its fickle, mighty breast The waters still are moving, With love in every running crest And laughter in the loving-- Light love to touch the prows of ships... Poems - Post by : James_Hughes - Date : November 2011 - Author : Max Eastman - Read : 3337

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