Poems by Aldous Leonard Huxley

also known as: Aldous Huxley

Sorted by title, showing title and first line

White in the moonlight,
Once more the windless days are here,
We who are lovers sit by the fire,
We judge by appearance merely:
(To J.S.)
I am not one of those who sip,
Noonday upon the Alpine meadows
There is a country in my mind,
(From the French of Stéphane Mallarmé.)
Dear absurd child - too dear to my cost I've found -
Her eyes of bright unwinking glaze
Sitting on the top of the 'bus,
In the middle of countries, far from hills and sea,
The eyes of the portraits on the wall
Books and a coloured skein of thoughts were mine;
Instants in the quiet, small sharp stars,
All fly - yet who is misanthrope? -
Evenings in trains,
At your mouth, white and milk-warm sphinx,
I have run where festival was loud
I am getting on well with this anecdote,
Shepherd, to yon tall poplars tune your flute:
Thought is an unseen net wherein our mind
The stars are golden instants in the deep
A petal drifted loose
Noon with a depth of shadow beneath the trees
I. UNDER THE TREES.
Fine as the dust of plumy fountains blowing
Day after day,
While I have been fumbling over books
(From the French of Rimbaud).
My green aquarium of phantom fish,
Failing sometimes to understand
I had remarked--how sharply one observes
Darkness had stretched its colour,
Oh wind-swept towers,

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