improvisations - Popular Poems and stories from category

The music of the morning is red and warm;
Snow lies against the walls;
And on the sloping roof in the yellow
Pigeons huddle against the wind

The first bell is silver,
And breathing darkness I think only of the long scythe of time
The second bell is crimson,
And I think of a holiday night, with

How many times have we been
Just as I was about to make up a story for you
One time it was because we suddenly saw a
Lighting his green lantern among the boughs of a fir-tree

I stood for a long while before the shop
Looking at the blue butterflies embroidered on tawny silk
The building was a tower before me,
Time was loud behind me,

The day opens with the brown light of
And past the window snowflakes fall and fall
I sit in my chair all day and work and
Measuring words against each other

Many things perplex me and leave me troubled,
Many things are locked away in the white book of
Never to be opened by me
The starr’d leaves are silently turned,

Like an old tree uprooted by the
And flung down
With roots bared to the sun and
And limp leaves brought to earth —Torn from its house —So do I seem to

It is night time, and cold, and snow is falling,
And no wind grieves the walls
In the small world of light around the arc-lampA swarm of snowflakes falls and falls
The street grows silent

When I was a boy, and saw bright rows of
In many lengths along a wallI was dissappointed to
That I could not play music upon them:
I ran my hand lightly across

My heart is an old house, and in that forlorn old house,
In the very centre, dark and forgotten,
Is a locked room where an enchanted
Lies sleeping

It is now two hours since I left you,
And the perfume of your hands is still on my hands
And though since thenI have looked at the stars, walked in the cold blue streets,
And heard the dead leaves blowing over the

The girl in the room beneath Before going to bed Strums on a mandolin The three simple tunes she knows
How inadequate they are to tell how her heart feels
When she has finished them several times She thrums the strings aimlessly with her...