Harold Monro
The Rebellious Vine by Harold Monro

The Rebellious Vine by Harold Monro

One day, the vineThat clomb on god’s own houseCried, “I will not growAnd, ‘I will notgrow,’And, I willnot grow,’And, ‘Iwill not grow,’So God leaned out his head, And said:‘You ...

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Real Property by Harold Monro

Real Property by Harold Monro

Tell me about that harvest field.Oh! Fifty acres of living bread.The colour has painted itself in my heart;The form is patterned in my head.So now I take it everywhere,See it ...

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Dog by Harold Monro

Dog by Harold Monro

You little friend, your nose is ready; you sniff,Asking for that expected walk,(Your nostrils full of the happy rabbit-whiff)And almost talk.And so the moment becomes a moving ...

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The Nightingale Near The House by Harold Monro

The Nightingale Near The House by Harold Monro

Here is the soundless cypress on the lawn:It listens, listens. Taller trees beyondListen. The moon at the unruffled pondStares. And you sing, you sing.That star-enchanted song ...

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Milk For The Cat by Harold Monro

Milk For The Cat by Harold Monro

When the tea is brought at five o'clock,And all the neat curtains are drawn with care,The little black cat with bright green eyesIs suddenly purring there.At first she pretends, ...

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Unknown Country by Harold Monro

Unknown Country by Harold Monro

Here, in this other world, they come and goWith easy dream-like movements to and fro.They stare through lovely eyes, yet do not seekAn answering gaze, or that a man should ...

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The Silent Pool by Harold Monro

The Silent Pool by Harold Monro

I have discovered finally to-dayThis home that I have called my ownIs built of straw and clay,Not, as I thought, of stone.I wonder who the architect could be,What builder made it ...

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Man Carrying Bale by Harold Monro

Man Carrying Bale by Harold Monro

The tough hand closes gently on the load;Out of the mind, a voiceCalls 'Lift!' and the arms, remembering well their work,Lengthen and pause for help.Then a slow ripple flows from ...

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Week-End by Harold Monro

Week-End by Harold Monro

I The train! The twleve o'clock for paradise. Hurry, or it will try to creep away. Out in the country every one is wise: We can be only wise on Saturday. There you are waiting, ...

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Children Of Love by Harold Monro

Children Of Love by Harold Monro

The holy boyWent from his mother out in the cool of the dayOver the sun-parched fieldsAnd in among the olives shining green and shining grey.There was no sound,No smallest voice ...

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Living by Harold Monro

Living by Harold Monro

Slow bleak awakening from the morning dream Brings me in contact with the sudden day. I am alive – this I. I let my fingers move along my body. Realization warns them, and my ...

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Child Of Dawn by Harold Monro

Child Of Dawn by Harold Monro

O gentle vision in the dawn: My spirit over faint cool water glides, Child of the day, To thee; And thou art drawn By kindred impulse over silver tides The dreamy way To me. I ...

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Gravikty by Harold Monro

Gravikty by Harold Monro

IFit for perpetual worship is the powerThat holds our bodies safely to the earth.When people talk of their domestic gods,Then privately I think of You.We ride through space upon ...

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Great City by Harold Monro

Great City by Harold Monro

When I returned at sunset, The serving-maid was singing softly Under the dark stairs, and in the house Twilight had entered like a moon-ray. Tune was so dead I could not ...

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The Bird At Dawn by Harold Monro

The Bird At Dawn by Harold Monro

What I saw was just one eye In the dawn as I was going : A bird can carry all the sky In that little button glowing. Never in my life I went So deep into the firmament. He was ...

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Overheard On A Salmarsh by Harold Monro

Overheard On A Salmarsh by Harold Monro

Nymph, nymph, what are your beads? Green glass, goblin. Why do you stare at them? Give them me.No.Give them me. Give them me.No.Then I will howl all night in the reeds,Lie in the ...

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Thistledown by Harold Monro

Thistledown by Harold Monro

This might have been a place for sleep,But, as from that small hollow thereHosts of bright thistledown beginTheir dazzling journey through the air,An idle man can only stare.They ...

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Lake Leman by Harold Monro

Lake Leman by Harold Monro

It is the sacred hour: above the far Low emerald hills that northward fold, Calmly, upon the blue the evening star Floats, wreathed in dusky gold. The winds have sung all day; but ...

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London Interior by Harold Monro

London Interior by Harold Monro

Autumn is in the air,The children are playing everywhere.One dare not open this old door too wide;It is so dark inside.The hall smells of dust;A narrow squirt of sunlight enters ...

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Goldfish by Harold Monro

Goldfish by Harold Monro

They are the angels of that watery world,With so much knowledge that they just aspireTo move themselves on golden fins,Or fill their paradise with fireBy darting suddenly from end ...

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Suburb by Harold Monro

Suburb by Harold Monro

Dull and hard the low wind creaksAmong the rustling pampas plumes.Drearily the year consumesIts fifty-two insipid weeks.Most of the grey-green meadowlandWas sold in parsimonious ...

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Introspection by Harold Monro

Introspection by Harold Monro

THAT house across the road is full of ghosts. The windows, all inquisitive, look inward. All are shut. I've never seen a body in the house. Have you? Have you? Yet feet go ...

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Youth In Arms by Harold Monro

Youth In Arms by Harold Monro

HAPPY boy, happy boy,David the immortal-willed,Youth a thousand thousand timesSlain, but not once killed,Swaggering again today In the old contemptuous way;Leaning backward from ...

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Two Poems: (Numbers I And X In ‘strange Meetings.’) by Harold Monro

Two Poems: (Numbers I And X In ‘strange Meetings.’) by Harold Monro

I If suddenly a clod of earth should rise, And walk about, and breathe, and speak, and love, How one would tremble, and in what surprise Gasp: 'Can you move?' I see men walking, ...

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Solitude by Harold Monro

Solitude by Harold Monro

WHEN you have tidied all things for the night,And while your thoughts are fading to their sleep,You'll pause a moment in the late firelight,Too sorrowful to weep.The large and ...

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Every Thing by Harold Monro

Every Thing by Harold Monro

Since man has been articulate, Mechanical, improvidently wise, (Servant of Fate), He has not understood the little cries And foreign conversations of the small Delightful ...

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Midnight Lamentation by Harold Monro

Midnight Lamentation by Harold Monro

When you and I go downBreathless and cold,Our faces both worn backTo earthly mould,How lonely we shall be!What shall we do,You without me,I without you?I cannot bear the ...

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