Oxford poetry, 1918 (1918)

Summary

“Oxford poetry, 1918”, published in 1918, is a work by . It explores elements such as curses, shadow and Lest.

Quotes from Oxford poetry, 1918 ()

Oxford poetry, 1918 (1918)

“ Light flies, and shadow dies without its sustenance.
And stars shine out most silently, like jewels quietly wrought.
Not even then I ceased, nor paused upon my dance.
Now, I am struck and smitten with beauty’s poignancy.
Now, I am hurt with wonder, closed in from ecstasy.
No ecstasy is mine. I cannot get away.
Every way I turn—myself. By night, by day,
My face, my soul, my body, the people that I know—
Ah, no more free fashioning of worlds that gleam and go.
* * * * *
I have grown to be my own world, my world with heart and pain
And he that has found himself can be never lost again. ”

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Source: Gutenberg

Oxford poetry, 1918 (1918)

“ Woman, if you be woman, you live too late,
Never the man was suckled to be your mate,
Wed with a god and break him in battle with fate.
You are truth, and the world is illusion; faith, it is doubt.
It wraps its disaster in darkness, and you shine out;
And the liquor that drugs to endurance is not for your drought.
Pass on to the waste and the fell! I stay, and forget
Your breasts and your hair and your laughter like suns that are set.
Despise me, forgive me, but leave me. I love you yet. ”

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Source: Gutenberg

Oxford poetry, 1918 (1918)

“ New wares, new men, and all as brief as flowers—
Thou hadst outlasted all that time devours.
“But thou art dead; thou art flesh and art dead;
The grave will be thy lover, thy round breast
Nourish the worm, while, shred by ghastly shred,
The mouth that laughed, the fingers that caressed,
Wither, O dearest of my works and best!...
“What have I gained? some mornings when my soul
Leaped out of me into the arms of day,
When the world, like a chariot, span in my own control,
Times when I saw the beech-tree leaves a-sway
And knew how green they were and far from grey. ”

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Source: Gutenberg

Oxford poetry, 1918 (1918)

“ And winter on the world,
Yet, when I think of her,
I know where summer is.
When friends to-day forget
Ardours of yesterday,
And to-morrow turn away
As if we never met,
Yet, when I think of her,
I know where constancy is.
{22} HILLS
AS I go inland
Lo! my heart drooping
As a bird’s in the grove when the shadow falls swooping
Of the hawk’s wing down from a cloudless sky.
For the hills creep together,
Murmuring, conspiring;
Solitude, poverty, sorrow desiring
For men that are born to dream and to die. ”

[↩︎]

Source: Gutenberg

Oxford poetry, 1918 (1918)

“ Conjure the light o’ love to come
Infirm of step, infirm of sight,
To sleep with her who loves to-night.
Lucasta, see the lamp burns blue.
Spirits, have we this boon of you?
In the smoke their faces nod,
He shall come though he were God.
Shake not, girl, thy love they say
Conquers—Spirits frisk away;
By the powers that raised you, hence
To your depths. Ye have licence.
So, they are vanished. Why so frail?
Once more the wick gleams yellow pale,
The smokewreaths whirl to left and right,
Cimon shall sleep with thee to-night.{40}
He comes ”

[↩︎]

Source: Gutenberg

Oxford poetry, 1918 (1918)

“ And say, “If you or I were judge, we should not moulder here alone.
“Lest we might harm our fellow-men, they prisoned us, and now exhaust,
To speed a cosmic holocaust, the blood and gold they grudged us then.
“The world had seen less misery with us for prince and presbyter,
Who sometimes knew the fools we were, and in our folly could not lie.
“But happier we who lived in scorn, and dying, passed from human thought
Than they whose sophistry has bought the curses of a race unborn.”
{3} C. BURCHARDT
(MAGDALEN)
COMPLAINT
MY love has left me. ”

[↩︎]

Source: Gutenberg

Oxford poetry, 1918 (1918)

“ While space allows, their freehold keep the men that God has made awry.
And these within their straitened fold, who nothing owned, were owned of none,
Possess of all beneath the Sun what God and man could not withhold. ”

[↩︎]

Source: Gutenberg

Oxford poetry, 1918 (1918)

“ Buttercups and distance and smoke, and people’s bodies.
O, I cannot get away from the places where my God is.
Laughter is a thing to strain and angle for,
My heart is quick and shrinking and pains me at its core. ”

[↩︎]

Source: Gutenberg

Oxford poetry, 1918 (1918)

“ Men’s gratitude—I that no longer count
For anything in any man’s affairs,
Am doubtful now; thus the gods grant our prayers.
“Ay me undone! The world cries out to me:
‘Pygmalion the sculptor, where art thou?’—
Buried indeed, O buried hopelessly
Fathom-deep under, fathom-deep under now—
The curious rootlets pry about his brow ...
{48} “There is no remedy; what is changed is changed;
No skill can rub out wrinkles from the heart,
Nor even God knit friends that are estranged
As innocently again as at the start,
Since they must keep the memory of that smart
“For good or evil still. ”

[↩︎]

Source: Gutenberg

Oxford poetry, 1918 (1918)

“ All honest men, pray for me, and pray well,
Lest true men’s curses send the false to hell.
II. ON A PROFITEER.
I FATTENED on the blood and tears
Of these long laborious years;
Out of loss came forth my gain,
Watered by another’s pain:
Who shall bid me rise again?
Pray for me, all poor men, and pray right well,
Lest poor men’s curses bring the rich to hell. ”

[↩︎]

Source: Gutenberg

Oxford poetry, 1918 (1918)

“ When all the world was made for you?
Envoy:
Love’s happiness had passed you by,
But there were other things to do.
Ladies, why did ye choose to die,
When all the world was made for you?
{20} K. GIBBERD
(ST. HILDA’S HALL)
WHEN I AM OLD
I OFTEN think that when I’m old and grey,
Mechanically living through each day,
That when like all the rest I’ve found my groove
With little room for heart or mind to move,
But just enough to eat and work and dress ”

[↩︎]

Source: Gutenberg

Oxford poetry, 1918 (1918)

“ Watching that we take no harm,
For spirits are fickle as men are
And called to help may come to war.
He wakes; now will I cease my croak
And read the grand words from this book
That he who recks not of our rite
May sleep with her who loves to-night. ”

[↩︎]

Source: Gutenberg

Oxford poetry, 1918 (1918)

“ That blur the sky, in the heart of the triumphing blur,
A deeper, calmer rift?”
So; I have tuned my music to the trees,
And there were voices, dim below
Their shrillness, voices swelling slow
In the blue murmur of hills, and a golden cry
And then vast silences.
{35} C. R. JURY
(MAGDALEN)
A SONNET TO A FRIEND
YOUNG bright-plumed eagle, prince of pure heaven’s fire,
Inhabitant of glory clothed in light,
Exalt me to this new triumphant pyre
That burns the shades and monsters of our night,
Vouchsafe thy spirit ”

[↩︎]

Source: Gutenberg

Oxford poetry, 1918 (1918)

“ Edited by T. W. E., W. R. C., and A. L. H. Uniform with the above, Roxburgh parchment, 2s. 6d. net; sewed, 1s. 6d. net.
Oxford Poetry, 1917. Edited by T. W. E., W. R. C., and D. L. S. Uniform with the above. Roxburgh parchment, 2s. 6d. net; sewed, 1s. 6d. net. ”

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