Cows       —Stanley Plumly

Sometimes when you couldn't sleep it off
you'd go outside and sing to the cows.
And they'd sing back, moon, moon.
I could hear you all night from my room,
a bull in stall, blowing across
the top of the bottle.  I can hear you now,
here, in this room, as I have, poem
after poem.  As just a moment ago, almost
dawn, you came breaking back into the house.
My father's house, my room. You couldn't
sleep it off.  You went out into the dark,
got lost, almost.  I hear the cows.
And the moon's still up, the doomed moon.
And all this time I've stayed awake with you.

Wrong Side of the River      —Stanley Plumly

I watched you on the wrong side
of the river, waving.  You were trying
to tell me something.  You used both hands
and sort of ran back and forth,
as if to say look behind you, look out
behind you.  I wanted to wave back.
But you began shouting and I didn't
want you to think I understood.
So I did nothing but stand still,
thinking that's what to do on the wrong side
of the river.  After a while you did too.
We stood like that for a long time.  Then
I raised a hand, as if to be called on,
and you raised a hand, as if to the same question.

Sonnet:  The Poet at Seven       —Donald Justice

And on the porch, across the upturned chair,
The boy would spread a dingy counterpane
Against the length and majesty of the rain,
And on all fours crawl under it like a bear
To lick his wounds in secret, in his lair;
And afterwards, in the windy yard again,
One hand cocked back, release his paper plane
Frail as a May fly to the faithless air.
And summer evenings he would whirl around
Faster and faster till the drunken ground
rose up to meet him; sometimes he would squat
Among the bent weeds of the vacant lot,
Waiting for the dusk and someone dear to come
And whip him down the street, but gently, home.

Sonnet:  The Wall      —Donald Justice

The walls surrounding them they never saw;
The angels, often.  Angels were as common
As birds or butterflies, but looked more human.
As long as the wings were furled, they felt no awe.
Beasts, too, were friendly.  They could find no flaw
In all of Eden:  this was the first omen.
The second was the dream which woke the woman.
She dreamed she saw the lion sharpen his claw.
As for the fruit, it had no taste at all.
They had been warned of what was bound to happen.
They had been told and told of something called the world.
They had told and told about the wall.
They saw it now; the gate was standing open.
As they advanced, the giant wings unfurled.

--Donald Justice

I will arise and go now, and go to Innisfree,
And a small cabin build there, of clay and wattles made:
Nine bean-rows will I have there, a hive for the honey bee,
And live alone in the bee-loud glade.

And I shall have some peace there, for peace comes dropping slow,
Dropping from the veils of the morning to where the cricket sings;
There midnight's all a glimmer, and noon a purple glow,
And evening full of the linnet's wings.

I will arise and go now, for always night and day
I hear lake water lapping with low sounds by the shore;
While I stand on the roadway, or on the pavements gray,
I hear it in the deep heart's core.

The World is too much with us    —William Wordsworth

The world is too much with us; late and soon,
Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers:
Little we see in Nature that is ours;
We have given our hearts away, a sordid boon!
This Sea that bares her bosom to the moon;
The winds that will be howling at all hours,
And are up-gathered now like sleeping flowers;
For this, for everything, we are out of tune;
It moves us note.--Great God!  I'd rather be
A Pagan suckled in a creed outworn;
So might I, standing on this pleasant lea,
Have glimpses that would make me less forlorn;
Have sight of Proteus rising from the sea;
Or hear old Triton blow his wreathed horn.