Emotions and Feelings

Let us go then, you and I, When the evening is spread out against the sky Like a patient etherized upon a table.

Still falls the Rain— Dark as the world of man, black as our loss— Blind as the nineteen hundred and forty nails Upon the Cross.

Lily O’Grady, Silly and shady, Longing to be A lazy lady.

Blow out, you bugles, over the rich dead! There’s none of these so lonely and poor of old, But, dying, has made us rarer gifts than gold.

Then, the cool kindliness of sheets, that soon Smooth away trouble; and the rough male kiss Of blankets; grainy wood; live hair that is Shining and free; blue-massing clouds; the keen Unpassioned beauty of a great machine; The benison of hot water; furs to touch; The good smell of old clothes.

Fish say, they have their stream and pond; But is there anything beyond?

And then you suddenly cried, and turned away.

Stands the church clock at ten to three? And is there honey still for tea?

Breathless, we flung us on the windy hill, Laughed in the sun, and kissed the lovely grass.

Soldiers are dreamers; when the guns begin They think of firelit homes, clean beds, and wives.

The ant’s a centaur in his dragon world. Pull down thy vanity, it is not man Made courage, or made order, or made grace, Learn of the green world what can be thy place In scaled invention or true artistry, Pull down thy vanity, The green casque has outdone your elegance.

What thou lovest well remains, the rest is dross What thou lov’st well shall not be reft from thee What thou lov’st well is thy true heritage Whose world, or mine or theirs or is it of none? First came the seen, then thus the palpable What thou lovest well is thy true heritage.

Some quick to arm, some for adventure, some from fear of weakness, some from fear of censure, some for love of slaughter, in imagination, learning later… some in fear, learning love of slaughter; Died some, pro patria, walked eye-deep in hell believing in old men’s lies, the unbelieving came home, home to a lie.

Your mind and you are our Sargasso Sea.

All men by their nature give praise.

Then back to the party! and femaled you jealously as if to discover whence and there should escape, what?

are the desolate, dark weeks when nature in its barrenness equals the stupidity of man. The year plunges into night and the heart plunges lower than night.

I have eaten the plums that were in the icebox and which you were probably saving for breakfast Forgive me they were delicious so sweet and so cold

I have eaten the plums that were in the icebox and which you were probably saving for breakfast Forgive me they were delicious so sweet and so cold

The crowd at the ball game is moved uniformly by a spirit of uselessness which delights them—

as if the earth under our feet were an excrement of some sky and we degraded prisoners destined to hunger until we eat filth

The pure products of America go crazy—

They enter the new world naked, cold, uncertain of all save that they enter.

Who shall say I am not the happy genius of my household?