To lose – if One can find again (by Emily Dickinson)

Emily Dickinson 

[1858]

To lose — if One can find again —
To miss — if One shall meet —
The Burglar cannot rob — then —
The Broker cannot cheat.
So build the hillocks gaily — 
Thou little spade of mine
Leaving nooks for Daisy
And for Columbine — 
You and I the secret
Of the Crocus know —
Let us chant it softly —
“There is no more snow!”




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The Ol’ Tunes (by Paul Laurence Dunbar)

Paul Laurence Dunbar, 1872-1906

The Ol’ Tunes
by Paul Laurence Dunbar
[from Lyrics of Lowly Life, 1896]  

You kin talk about yer anthems
     An’ yer arias an’ sich,
An’ yer modern choir–singin’ 
     That you think so awful rich;
But you orter heerd us youngsters 
     In the times now far away,
A–singin’ o’ the ol’ tunes 
     In the ol’–fashioned way.

There was some of us sung treble 
     An’ a few of us growled bass,
An’ the tide o’ song flowed smoothly 
     With its ‘comp’niment o’ grace;
There was spirit in that music, 
     An’ a kind o’ solemn sway,
A–singin’ o’ the ol’ tunes 
     In the ol’–fashioned way.

I remember oft o’ standin’ 
     In my homespun pantaloons—
On my face the bronze an’ freckles 
     O’ the suns o’ youthful Junes—
Thinkin’ that no mortal minstrel 
     Ever chanted sich a lay
As the ol’ tunes we was singin’ 
     In the ol’–fashioned way.

The boys ‘ud always lead us, 
     An’ the girls ‘ud all chime in
Till the sweetness o’ the singin’ 
     Robbed the list’nin’ soul o’ sin;
An’ I used to tell the parson 
     ‘T was as good to sing as pray,
When the people sung the ol’ tunes 
     In the ol’–fashioned way.

How I long ag’in to hear ’em 
     Pourin’ forth from soul to soul,
With the treble high an’ meller, 
     An’ the bass’s mighty roll;
But the times is very diff’rent, 
     An’ the music heerd to–day
Ain’t the singin’ o’ the ol’ tunes 
     In the ol’–fashioned way.

Little screechin’ by a woman, 
     Little squawkin’ by a man,
Then the organ’s twiddle–twaddle, 
     Jest the empty space to span,—
An’ ef you should even think it, 
     ‘T is n’t proper fur to say
That you want to hear the ol’ tunes 
     In the ol’–fashioned way.

But I think that some bright mornin’, 
     When the toils of life air o’er,
An’ the sun o’ heaven arisin’ 
     Glads with light the happy shore,
I shall hear the angel chorus, 
     In the realms of endless day,
A–singin’ o’ the ol’ tunes 
     In the ol’–fashioned way.

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Eldorado (by Edgar Allan Poe)

Eldorado
by Edgar Allan Poe
[first published in the 21 April 1849 issue of The Flag of Our Union]

     Gaily bedight, 
     A gallant knight,
In sunshine and in shadow, 
     Had journeyed long, 
     Singing a song,
In search of Eldorado. 

     But he grew old— 
     This knight so bold—
And o’er his heart a shadow— 
     Fell as he found 
     No spot of ground
That looked like Eldorado. 

     And, as his strength 
     Failed him at length,
He met a pilgrim shadow— 
     “Shadow,” said he, 
     “Where can it be—
This land of Eldorado?” 

     “Over the Mountains 
     Of the Moon,
Down the Valley of the Shadow, 
     Ride, boldly ride,” 
     The shade replied,—
“If you seek for Eldorado!”


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Now Close the Windows (by Robert Frost)

Now Close the Windows
by Robert Frost
[from A Boy’s Will (1913)]

Now close the windows and hush all the fields:
     If the trees must, let them silently toss;
No bird is singing now, and if there is, 
     Be it my loss.

It will be long ere the marshes resume, 
     I will be long ere the earliest bird:
So close the windows and not hear the wind, 
     But see all wind-stirred.



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Francesca (by Ezra Pound)

Francesca
by Ezra Pound

from Umbra: The Early Poems of Ezra Pound (published in 1920)

You came in out of the night
And there were flowers in your hands.
Now you will come out of a confusion of people,
Out of a turmoil of speech about you.

I who have seen you amid the primal things
Was angry when they spoke your name
In ordinary places.
I would that the cool waves might flow over my mind,
And that the world should dry as a dead leaf,
Or as a dandelion seed-pod and be swept away,
So that I might find you again,
Alone. 

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After While (by Paul Laurence Dunbar)

Paul Laurence Dunbar, 1872-1906

After While
by Paul Laurence Dunbar
[from Lyrics of Lowly Life, 1896]  

     A POEM OF FAITH

I think that though the clouds be dark,
That though the waves dash o’er the bark,
Yet after while the light will come,
And in calm waters safe at home
          The bark will anchor.
Weep not, my sad–eyed, gray–robed maid,
Because your fairest blossoms fade,
That sorrow still o’erruns your cup,
And even though you root them up, 
          The weeds grow ranker.

For after while your tears shall cease,
And sorrow shall give way to peace;
The flowers shall bloom, the weeds shall die,
And in that faith seen, by and by 
          Thy woes shall perish.
Smile at old Fortune’s adverse tide,
Smile when the scoffers sneer and chide.
Oh, not for you the gems that pale,
And not for you the flowers that fail; 
          Let this thought cherish:

That after while the clouds will part,
And then with joy the waiting heart
Shall feel the light come stealing in,
That drives away the cloud of sin 
          And breaks its power.

And you shall burst your chrysalis,
And wing away to realms of bliss,
Untrammelled, pure, divinely free,
Above all earth’s anxiety 
          From that same hour. 

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Somebody Blew Up America (by Amiri Baraka)

Video permalink: http://youtu.be/KUEu-pG1HWw

“Somebody Blew Up America” by Amiri Baraka (with Rob Brown on saxophone), recorded live on February 21, 2009 at The Sanctuary for Independent Media in Troy, NY.  The poem appears in Baraka’s book Somebody Blew Up America & Other Poems.

This production is part of “Free Jazz at the Sanctuary,” a 13-part series of performance videos featuring some of the world’s most talented improvisers. Each hour-long show is available on DVD directly from Downtown Music Gallery (www.downtownmusicgallery.com). For more information on this series, visit www.JazzSanctuary.org.

Visit the poet’s website at www.amiribaraka.com.

All These My Banners Be (by Emily Dickinson)

Emily Dickinson 

[1858]

All these my banners be.
I sow my — pageantry
In May —
It rises train by train —
Then sleeps in state again —
My chancel — all the plain
     Today.



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On His Own Face in a Glass (by Ezra Pound)

On His Own Face in a Glass
by Ezra Pound

from A Lume Spento (published in 1908 by A. Antonini)


O strange face there in the glass!
O ribald company, O saintly host,
O sorrow-swept my fool,
What answer? O ye myriad
That strive and play and pass,
Jest, challenge, counterlie!
I? I? I?
            And ye? 

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The Demiurge’s Laugh (by Robert Frost)

The Demiurge’s Laugh
by Robert Frost
[from A Boy’s Will (1913)]

It was far in the sameness of the wood;
     I was running with joy on the Demon’s trail,
Though I knew what I hunted was no true god. 
     It was just as the light was beginning to fail
That I suddenly heard—all I needed to hear:
It has lasted me many and many a year.

The sound was behind me instead of before, 
     A sleepy sound, but mocking half,
As of one who utterly couldn’t care. 
     The Demon arose from his wallow to laugh,
Brushing the dirt from his eye as he went;
And well I knew what the Demon meant.

I shall not forget how his laugh rang out. 
     I felt as a fool to have been so caught,
And checked my steps to make pretense 
     It was something among the leaves I sought
(Though doubtful whether he stayed to see).
Thereafter I sat me against a tree.


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