Poems by William Bliss Carman

also known as: Bliss Carman

Sorted by title, showing title and first line

Shipmate, leave the ghostly shadows,
Cool! cool! cool!
Give me your last Aloha,
For love of the roving foot
Hills where once my love and I
The swarthy bee is a buccaneer,
Snowdrift of the mountains,
I was born for deep-sea faring;
"Cras ingens iterabimus aequor."
"Lose and love" is love's first art;
Dame of the night of hair
Give a rouse, then, in the Maytime
Here's a health to thee, Roberts,
There is something in the autumn that is native to my blood--
Do you know what it is to be vagrant born?
That painter has not with a careless smutch
Here's to you, Arthur! You and I
Today, through your Easter market
There's a schooner out from Kingsport,
About the time of Michael's feast
As a brave man faces the foe,
There is no escape by the river,
There paused to shut the door
You hearken, fellows? Turned aside
Barney McGee, there's no end of good luck in you,
I like the old house tolerably well,
Softly, softly, Niccolo Amati!
Buie Annajohn was the king's black mare,
Comrades, pour the wine to-night
When Kavin comes back from the barber,
"A barbered woman's man,"--yes, so
Over the shoulders and slopes of the dune
When the bugler morn shall wind his horn,
They that eat the uncrushed grape
April. You hearken, my fellow,
The fervid breath of our flushed Southern May
"Hospes comesque corporis,
"Cornel, cornel, green and white,
Hack and Hew were the sons of God
Hem and Haw were the sons of sin,
Oh, who would stay indoor, indoor,
Browning, old fellow,
Thought is a garden wide and old
Heart to heart!
Oh, but life went gayly, gayly,
Once I met a soncy maid,
The play is Life; and this round earth,
Once in the Workshop, ages ago,
In her body's perfect sweet
What is the stir in the street?
The scent of honeysuckle,
Good-morning, Karlene. It's a very
Word of a little one born in the West,--
It is not anything he says,
Kilrudden ford, Kilrudden dale,
Weary, oh, so weary
Who'll have the crumpled pieces of a heart?
There are legends of Lost Haven,
Eric of Marka holds the knife:
O Moon, Mr. Moon,
The ghost of a wind came over the hill,
I dreamed of Sappho on a summer night.
The blue night, like an angel, came into the room,--
Noons of poppy, noons of poppy,
A lonely sail in the vast sea-room,
He said, "Good-night, my heart is light,
Dear Lilac, how enchanting
When I am only fit to go to bed,
Three secrets that never were said:
This is not sadness in the wood;
The body is no prison where we lie
The words that pass from lip to lip
Make me over, mother April,
I saw him go down to the water to bathe;
Oh, not for us the easy mirth
Love built a crimson house,
This laboring vast, Tellurian Galleon,
"Dustman, dustman!"
The sunburnt face in the willow shade
I will go out to grass with that old King,
I love the lazy Southern spring,
Oh, the shambling sea is a sexton old,
Said the hearse-horse to the coffin,
Now the joys of the road are chiefly these:
Look how he throws them up and up,
A stone jug and a pewter mug,
Wild across the Breton country,
"Daughter, daughter, marry no man,
Comrades, comrades, have me buried
I cannot quite recall
Now gird thee well for courage,
There is rumor in Dark Harbor,
We are as mendicants who wait
Hear! hear! hear!
Iron and granite and rust,
Two shapes of august bearing, seraph tall,
The typewriter ticketh no more in the twilight;
On the long slow heave of a lazy sea,
Out through the hills of midnight,
Whe-ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh!
Oh, let my lord laugh in his halls
With the fall of the leaf comes the wolf, wolf, wolf,
I am fevered with the sunset,
Don't you know the sailing orders?
Smile, you inland hills and rivers!
The tall carnations down the garden walks
Bobbie Burns and Bobbie Browning,
Saint Kavin was a gentleman,
Down the world with Marna!
Bowmen, shout for Gamelbar!
Brother, lost brother!
And Yanna by the yule log
Three of us without a care
"I shut myself in with my soul,
Off with the fetters
Avid of life and love, insatiate vagabond,
It was June, and I was twenty.
For every one