William Carlos Williams

William Carlos Williams

In New York Harbor

In New York Harbor

In New York Harbor

O—eh—lee! La—la!Donna! Donna!Blue is the sky of Palermo;Blue is the little bay;And dost thou remember the orange and fig,The lively sun and the sea breeze at evening?Hey—la!Donna! Donna! Maria!O—eh—li! La—la!Donna! Donna!Gray is the sky of this land.Gray and green is the water.I see no trees, dost thou? The windIs cold for the big woman there with the candle.Hey—la!Donna! Donna! Maria!O—eh—li! O—la!Donna! Donna!I sang thee by the blue waters;I sing thee here in the gray dawning.Kiss, for I put down my guitar;I’ll sing thee more songs after the landing.O Jesu, I love thee!Donna! Donna! Maria!

O—eh—lee! La—la!Donna! Donna!Blue is the sky of Palermo;Blue is the little bay;And dost thou remember the orange and fig,The lively sun and the sea breeze at evening?Hey—la!Donna! Donna! Maria!O—eh—li! La—la!Donna! Donna!Gray is the sky of this land.Gray and green is the water.I see no trees, dost thou? The windIs cold for the big woman there with the candle.Hey—la!Donna! Donna! Maria!O—eh—li! O—la!Donna! Donna!I sang thee by the blue waters;I sing thee here in the gray dawning.Kiss, for I put down my guitar;I’ll sing thee more songs after the landing.O Jesu, I love thee!Donna! Donna! Maria!

O—eh—lee! La—la!Donna! Donna!Blue is the sky of Palermo;Blue is the little bay;And dost thou remember the orange and fig,The lively sun and the sea breeze at evening?Hey—la!Donna! Donna! Maria!

O—eh—lee! La—la!

Donna! Donna!

Blue is the sky of Palermo;

Blue is the little bay;

And dost thou remember the orange and fig,

The lively sun and the sea breeze at evening?

Hey—la!

Donna! Donna! Maria!

O—eh—li! La—la!Donna! Donna!Gray is the sky of this land.Gray and green is the water.I see no trees, dost thou? The windIs cold for the big woman there with the candle.Hey—la!Donna! Donna! Maria!

O—eh—li! La—la!

Donna! Donna!

Gray is the sky of this land.

Gray and green is the water.

I see no trees, dost thou? The wind

Is cold for the big woman there with the candle.

Hey—la!

Donna! Donna! Maria!

O—eh—li! O—la!Donna! Donna!I sang thee by the blue waters;I sing thee here in the gray dawning.Kiss, for I put down my guitar;I’ll sing thee more songs after the landing.O Jesu, I love thee!Donna! Donna! Maria!

O—eh—li! O—la!

Donna! Donna!

I sang thee by the blue waters;

I sing thee here in the gray dawning.

Kiss, for I put down my guitar;

I’ll sing thee more songs after the landing.

O Jesu, I love thee!

Donna! Donna! Maria!

The Archer is wake!The Swan is flying!Gold against blueAn Arrow is lying.There is hunting in heaven—Sleep safe till tomorrow.The Bears are abroad!The Eagle is screaming!Gold against blueTheir eyes are gleaming!Sleep!Sleep safe till tomorrow.The Sisters lieWith their arms intertwining;Gold against blueTheir hair is shining!The Serpent writhes!Orion is listening!Gold against blueHis sword is glistening!Sleep!There is hunting in heaven—Sleep safe till tomorrow.

The Archer is wake!The Swan is flying!Gold against blueAn Arrow is lying.There is hunting in heaven—Sleep safe till tomorrow.The Bears are abroad!The Eagle is screaming!Gold against blueTheir eyes are gleaming!Sleep!Sleep safe till tomorrow.The Sisters lieWith their arms intertwining;Gold against blueTheir hair is shining!The Serpent writhes!Orion is listening!Gold against blueHis sword is glistening!Sleep!There is hunting in heaven—Sleep safe till tomorrow.

The Archer is wake!The Swan is flying!Gold against blueAn Arrow is lying.There is hunting in heaven—Sleep safe till tomorrow.

The Archer is wake!

The Swan is flying!

Gold against blue

An Arrow is lying.

There is hunting in heaven—

Sleep safe till tomorrow.

The Bears are abroad!The Eagle is screaming!Gold against blueTheir eyes are gleaming!Sleep!Sleep safe till tomorrow.

The Bears are abroad!

The Eagle is screaming!

Gold against blue

Their eyes are gleaming!

Sleep!

Sleep safe till tomorrow.

The Sisters lieWith their arms intertwining;Gold against blueTheir hair is shining!The Serpent writhes!Orion is listening!

The Sisters lie

With their arms intertwining;

Gold against blue

Their hair is shining!

The Serpent writhes!

Orion is listening!

Gold against blueHis sword is glistening!Sleep!There is hunting in heaven—Sleep safe till tomorrow.

Gold against blue

His sword is glistening!

Sleep!

There is hunting in heaven—

Sleep safe till tomorrow.

Soft as the bed in the earthWhere a stone has lain—So soft, so smooth and so cool,Spring closes me inWith her arms and her hands.Rich as the smellOf new earth on a stone,That has lain, breathingThe damp through its pores—Spring closes me inWith her blossomy hair;Brings dark to my eyes.

Soft as the bed in the earthWhere a stone has lain—So soft, so smooth and so cool,Spring closes me inWith her arms and her hands.Rich as the smellOf new earth on a stone,That has lain, breathingThe damp through its pores—Spring closes me inWith her blossomy hair;Brings dark to my eyes.

Soft as the bed in the earthWhere a stone has lain—So soft, so smooth and so cool,Spring closes me inWith her arms and her hands.

Soft as the bed in the earth

Where a stone has lain—

So soft, so smooth and so cool,

Spring closes me in

With her arms and her hands.

Rich as the smellOf new earth on a stone,That has lain, breathingThe damp through its pores—Spring closes me inWith her blossomy hair;Brings dark to my eyes.

Rich as the smell

Of new earth on a stone,

That has lain, breathing

The damp through its pores—

Spring closes me in

With her blossomy hair;

Brings dark to my eyes.

There is a bird in the poplars—It is the sun!The leaves are little yellow fishSwimming in the river;The bird skims above them—Day is on his wings.Phoenix!It is he that is makingThe great gleam among the poplars.It is his singingOutshines the noiseOf leaves clashing in the wind.

There is a bird in the poplars—It is the sun!The leaves are little yellow fishSwimming in the river;The bird skims above them—Day is on his wings.Phoenix!It is he that is makingThe great gleam among the poplars.It is his singingOutshines the noiseOf leaves clashing in the wind.

There is a bird in the poplars—It is the sun!The leaves are little yellow fishSwimming in the river;The bird skims above them—Day is on his wings.Phoenix!It is he that is makingThe great gleam among the poplars.It is his singingOutshines the noiseOf leaves clashing in the wind.

There is a bird in the poplars—

It is the sun!

The leaves are little yellow fish

Swimming in the river;

The bird skims above them—

Day is on his wings.

Phoenix!

It is he that is making

The great gleam among the poplars.

It is his singing

Outshines the noise

Of leaves clashing in the wind.

SUB TERRA

Where shall I find you—You, my grotesque fellowsThat I seek everywhereTo make up my band?None, not oneWith the earthy tastes I require:The burrowing pride that risesSubtly as on a bush in May.Where are you this day—You, my seven-year locustsWith cased wings?Ah, my beauties, how I long!That harvestThat shall be your advent—Thrusting up through the grass,Up under the weeds,Answering me—That shall be satisfying!The light shall leap and snapThat day as with a million lashes!Oh, I have you!Yes, you are about me in a sense,Playing under the blue poolsThat are my windows.But they shut you out stillThere in the half light—For the simple truth isThat though I see you clear enough ...You are not there.It is not that—it is you,You I want, my companions!God! if I could only fathomThe guts of shadows!—You to come with mePoking into negro housesWith their gloom and smell!In among childrenLeaping around a dead dog!MimickingOnto the lawns of the rich!You!To go with me a-tip-toeHead down under heaven,Nostrils lipping the wind!

Where shall I find you—You, my grotesque fellowsThat I seek everywhereTo make up my band?None, not oneWith the earthy tastes I require:The burrowing pride that risesSubtly as on a bush in May.Where are you this day—You, my seven-year locustsWith cased wings?Ah, my beauties, how I long!That harvestThat shall be your advent—Thrusting up through the grass,Up under the weeds,Answering me—That shall be satisfying!The light shall leap and snapThat day as with a million lashes!Oh, I have you!Yes, you are about me in a sense,Playing under the blue poolsThat are my windows.But they shut you out stillThere in the half light—For the simple truth isThat though I see you clear enough ...You are not there.It is not that—it is you,You I want, my companions!God! if I could only fathomThe guts of shadows!—You to come with mePoking into negro housesWith their gloom and smell!In among childrenLeaping around a dead dog!MimickingOnto the lawns of the rich!You!To go with me a-tip-toeHead down under heaven,Nostrils lipping the wind!

Where shall I find you—You, my grotesque fellowsThat I seek everywhereTo make up my band?None, not oneWith the earthy tastes I require:The burrowing pride that risesSubtly as on a bush in May.

Where shall I find you—

You, my grotesque fellows

That I seek everywhere

To make up my band?

None, not one

With the earthy tastes I require:

The burrowing pride that rises

Subtly as on a bush in May.

Where are you this day—You, my seven-year locustsWith cased wings?Ah, my beauties, how I long!That harvestThat shall be your advent—Thrusting up through the grass,Up under the weeds,Answering me—That shall be satisfying!The light shall leap and snapThat day as with a million lashes!

Where are you this day—

You, my seven-year locusts

With cased wings?

Ah, my beauties, how I long!

That harvest

That shall be your advent—

Thrusting up through the grass,

Up under the weeds,

Answering me—

That shall be satisfying!

The light shall leap and snap

That day as with a million lashes!

Oh, I have you!Yes, you are about me in a sense,Playing under the blue poolsThat are my windows.But they shut you out stillThere in the half light—For the simple truth isThat though I see you clear enough ...You are not there.

Oh, I have you!

Yes, you are about me in a sense,

Playing under the blue pools

That are my windows.

But they shut you out still

There in the half light—

For the simple truth is

That though I see you clear enough ...

You are not there.

It is not that—it is you,You I want, my companions!

It is not that—it is you,

You I want, my companions!

God! if I could only fathomThe guts of shadows!—You to come with mePoking into negro housesWith their gloom and smell!In among childrenLeaping around a dead dog!MimickingOnto the lawns of the rich!You!To go with me a-tip-toeHead down under heaven,Nostrils lipping the wind!

God! if I could only fathom

The guts of shadows!—

You to come with me

Poking into negro houses

With their gloom and smell!

In among children

Leaping around a dead dog!

Mimicking

Onto the lawns of the rich!

You!

To go with me a-tip-toe

Head down under heaven,

Nostrils lipping the wind!

All those treasures that lie in the little bolted box whose tiny space isMightier than the room of the stars, being secret and filled with dreams:All those treasures—I hold them in my hand—are straining continuallyAgainst the sides and the lid and the two ends of the little box in which I guard them;Crying that there is no sun come among them this great while and that they weary of shining;Calling me to fold back the lid of the little box and to give them sleep finally.But the night I am hiding from them, dear friend, is far more desperate than their night!And so I take pity on them and pretend to have lost the key to the little house of my treasures;For they would die of weariness were I to open it, and not be merely faint and sleepyAs they are now.

All those treasures that lie in the little bolted box whose tiny space isMightier than the room of the stars, being secret and filled with dreams:All those treasures—I hold them in my hand—are straining continuallyAgainst the sides and the lid and the two ends of the little box in which I guard them;Crying that there is no sun come among them this great while and that they weary of shining;Calling me to fold back the lid of the little box and to give them sleep finally.But the night I am hiding from them, dear friend, is far more desperate than their night!And so I take pity on them and pretend to have lost the key to the little house of my treasures;For they would die of weariness were I to open it, and not be merely faint and sleepyAs they are now.

All those treasures that lie in the little bolted box whose tiny space isMightier than the room of the stars, being secret and filled with dreams:All those treasures—I hold them in my hand—are straining continuallyAgainst the sides and the lid and the two ends of the little box in which I guard them;Crying that there is no sun come among them this great while and that they weary of shining;Calling me to fold back the lid of the little box and to give them sleep finally.

All those treasures that lie in the little bolted box whose tiny space is

Mightier than the room of the stars, being secret and filled with dreams:

All those treasures—I hold them in my hand—are straining continually

Against the sides and the lid and the two ends of the little box in which I guard them;

Crying that there is no sun come among them this great while and that they weary of shining;

Calling me to fold back the lid of the little box and to give them sleep finally.

But the night I am hiding from them, dear friend, is far more desperate than their night!And so I take pity on them and pretend to have lost the key to the little house of my treasures;For they would die of weariness were I to open it, and not be merely faint and sleepyAs they are now.

But the night I am hiding from them, dear friend, is far more desperate than their night!

And so I take pity on them and pretend to have lost the key to the little house of my treasures;

For they would die of weariness were I to open it, and not be merely faint and sleepy

As they are now.

POSTLUDE

Now that I have cooled to youLet there be gold of tarnished masonry,Temples soothed by the sun to ruinThat sleep utterly.Give me hand for the dances,Ripples at Philae, in and out,And lips, my Lesbian,Wall flowers that once were flame.Your hair is my CarthageAnd my arms the bow,And our words arrowsTo shoot the starsWho from that misty seaSwarm to destroy us.But you there beside me—Oh, how shall I defy you,Who wound me in the nightWith breasts shiningLike Venus and like Mars?The night that is shouting JasonWhen the loud eaves rattleAs with waves above meBlue at the prow of my desire.

Now that I have cooled to youLet there be gold of tarnished masonry,Temples soothed by the sun to ruinThat sleep utterly.Give me hand for the dances,Ripples at Philae, in and out,And lips, my Lesbian,Wall flowers that once were flame.Your hair is my CarthageAnd my arms the bow,And our words arrowsTo shoot the starsWho from that misty seaSwarm to destroy us.But you there beside me—Oh, how shall I defy you,Who wound me in the nightWith breasts shiningLike Venus and like Mars?The night that is shouting JasonWhen the loud eaves rattleAs with waves above meBlue at the prow of my desire.

Now that I have cooled to youLet there be gold of tarnished masonry,Temples soothed by the sun to ruinThat sleep utterly.Give me hand for the dances,Ripples at Philae, in and out,And lips, my Lesbian,Wall flowers that once were flame.

Now that I have cooled to you

Let there be gold of tarnished masonry,

Temples soothed by the sun to ruin

That sleep utterly.

Give me hand for the dances,

Ripples at Philae, in and out,

And lips, my Lesbian,

Wall flowers that once were flame.

Your hair is my CarthageAnd my arms the bow,And our words arrowsTo shoot the starsWho from that misty seaSwarm to destroy us.

Your hair is my Carthage

And my arms the bow,

And our words arrows

To shoot the stars

Who from that misty sea

Swarm to destroy us.

But you there beside me—Oh, how shall I defy you,Who wound me in the nightWith breasts shiningLike Venus and like Mars?The night that is shouting JasonWhen the loud eaves rattleAs with waves above meBlue at the prow of my desire.

But you there beside me—

Oh, how shall I defy you,

Who wound me in the night

With breasts shining

Like Venus and like Mars?

The night that is shouting Jason

When the loud eaves rattle

As with waves above me

Blue at the prow of my desire.


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