"Black Velvet"
The darkness of the trees at deep midnight,
And sombreness of shadows in the lake;
A mountain in the starlight wide awake
Dreaming to Heaven with imperial might
[ . . . ]
Iris Tree's poem "Black Velvet" was published in 1917 in the second "cycle" or issue of Wheels. To read this poem in full in a digitized version of this publication, follow the link(s) below:
"The Sleeper"
As Ann came in one summer's day,
She felt that she must creep,
So silent was the clear cool house,
It seemed a house of sleep.
And sure, when she pushed open the door,
Rapt in the stillness there,
Her mother sat, with stooping head,
Asleep upon a chair;
Fast—fast asleep; her two hands laid
Loose-folded on her knee,
So that her small unconscious face
Looked half unreal to be:
So calmly lit with sleep's pale light
Each feature was; so fair
[ . . . ]
Walter de la Mare's poem "The Sleeper" was published in Georgian Poetry, 1911-1912. To read this poem in full in a digitized version of this publication, follow the link(s) below:
The Rose
I remember a day when I stood on the sea shore at
Nice, holding a scarlet rose in my hands.
The calm sea, caressed by the sun, was brightly
garmented in blue, veiled in gold, and violet, verging
on silver.
Gently the waves lapped the shore, and scatter-
ing into pearls, emeralds and opals, hastened towards
my feet with a monotonous, rhythmical sound, like the
prolonged note of a single harp-string.
[ . . . ]
John Cournos' poem "The Rose," which was inspired by K. Tetmaier was published in the 1914 imagist anthology, Des Imagistes. To read this poem in full in a digitized version of this publication, follow the links below:
The Blue Mountain Project (The Glebe)
The Modernist Journals Project (Charles and Albert Boni edition)
"Leafless"
You are so straight and still
What does it mean?
Are you concerned
in the tops of you now
with sky matters
[ . . . ]
Alfred Kreymborg's poem "Leafless" was published in the 1917 Others anthology. To read this poem in full in a digitized version of this publication, follow the link(s) below:
"The Soldiers"
At first with fruit and flowers and drink
They went, libated; festal day
When demigods in columns swing
Amid the maniac mob. I saw
Massed women singing at the quay
Songs of their land, ere the high ship
Crept hooting out to sea. And then
How one would crowd to watch a squad
Catching the snap and unity
Of drill, at practice days afield
Invading hidden villages
In laps of downs. They, still unwhipped,
Plod on obediently to death
Without the cheering and the praise
[ . . . ]
Sherard Vines' poem "The Soldiers" was published in 1917 in the second "cycle" or issue of Wheels. To read this poem in full in a digitized version of this publication, follow the link(s) below:
Librivox audio recording hosted on Archive.org
The Modernist Journals Project
Hysteric meed of yesterday ;
"The Kingfisher"
It was the Rainbow gave thee birth,
And left thee all her lovely hues;
And, as her mother's name was Tears,
So runs it in thy blood to choose
For haunts the lonely pools, and keep
In company with trees that weep.
Go you and, with such glorious hues,
Live with proud Peacocks in green parks;
On lawns as smooth as shining glass,
Let every feather show its marks;
Get thee on boughs and clap thy wings
Before the windows of proud kings.
Nay, lovely Bird, thou art not vain;
Thou hast no proud, ambitious mind;
I also love a quiet place
That's green, away from all mankind;
A lonely pool, and let a tree
Sigh with her bosom over me.
William H. Davies' poem "The Kingfisher" was printed in Georgian Poetry, 1911-1912. To read it in a digitized version of this publication, follow the link(s) below:
Hermes of the Ways
I
The hard sand breaks,
And the grains of it
Are clear as wine.
Far off over the leagues of it,
The wind,
Playing on the wide shore,
Piles little ridges,
And the great waves
Break over it.
But more than the many-foamed ways
Of the sea,
I know him
Of the triple path-ways,
Hermes,
Who awaiteth.
[ . . . ]
H.D.'s "Hermes of the Ways" was published in the 1914 imagist anthology, Des Imagistes. To read this poem in full in a digitized version of this publication, follow the links below:
The Blue Mountain Project (The Glebe)
The Modernist Journals Project (Charles and Albert Boni edition)
"The Fight"
Smoke—more smoke—thickening the air, staining
the air blue-grey, rising on waves of breath, and
falling, and filling the channels of breath, and red-
dening eyes.
Smoke—wreathing the rafters, lying in grey-blue
folds over the sloping bank of men—they may be
men over there, men's faces and bodies slanting
down to the parapet
[ . . . ]
Robert Alden Sanborn's poem "The Fight" was published in the third Others anthology in 1920. To read this poem in full in a digitized version of this publication, follow the link(s) below:
"Fleecing Time"
Queen Venus, like a bunch of roses,
Fat and pink that splashed dew closes,
Underneath dark mulberry trees,
Wandered with the fair-haired breeze.
Among the dark leaves preening wings
Sit golden birds of light; each sings,
[ . . . ]
Edith Sitwell's poem "Fleecing Time" was published in the 1920 Wheels anthology. Follow the link(s) below to read this poem in full in a digitized version of this publication:
"Milk for the Cat"
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 eyes
Is suddenly purring there.
At first she pretends, having nothing to do,
She has come in merely to blink by the grate.
But, though tea may be late or the milk may be sour,
She is never late.
And presently her agate eyes
Take a soft large milky haze.
And her independent casual glance
Becomes a stiff, hard gaze.
Then she stamps her claws or lifts her ears,
Or twists her tail and begins to stir.
Till suddenly all her lithe body becomes
One breathing, trembling purr.
The children eat and wriggle and laugh;
The two old ladies stroke their silk:
But the cat is grown small and thin with desire,
Transformed to a creeping lust for milk.
The white saucer like some full moon descends
At last from the clouds of the table above;
She sighs and dreams and thrills and glows.
Transfigured with love.
She nestles over the shining rim.
Buries her chin in the creamy sea;
Her tail hangs loose; each drowsy paw
Is doubled under each bending knee.
A long, dim ecstasy holds her life;
Her world is an infinite shapeless white,
Till her tongue has curled the last holy drop.
Then she sinks back into the night,
Draws and dips her body to heap
Her sleepy nerves in the great arm-chair,
Lies defeated and buried deep
Three or four hours unconscious there.
Harold Monro's poem "Milk for the Cat" was published in Georgian Poetry, 1913-1915. To read this poem in a digitized version of this publication, follow the link(s) below:
Project Gutenberg (text version)