“Discovery” by John Freeman

"Discovery"

Beauty walked over the hills and made them bright.

She in the long fresh grass scattered her rains

Sparkling and glittering like a host of stars,

But not like stars cold, severe, terrible.

Hers was the laughter of the wind that leaped

Arm-full of shadows, flinging them far and wide.

Hers the bright light within the quick green

Of every new leaf on the oldest tree.

It was her swimming made the river run

Shining as the sun;

Her voice, escaped from winter's chill and dark,

Singing in the incessant lark. . . .

All this was hers yet all this had not been

Except 'twas seen.

It was my eyes, Beauty, that made thee bright;

My ears that heard, the blood leaping in my veins,

The vehemence of transfiguring thought

Not lights and shadows, birds, grasses and rains

That made thy wonders wonderful.

For it has been, Beauty, that I have seen thee,

Tedious as a painted cloth at a bad play,

Empty of meaning and so of all delight.

Now thou hast blessed me with a great pure bliss,

Shaking thy rainy light all over the earth,

And I have paid thee with my thankfulness.

 

John Freeman's poem "Discovery" was published in Georgian Poetry, 1916-1917. To read this poem in a digitized version of this publication, follow the link(s) below:

Archive.org

Project Gutenberg (HTML version)

“Mid-Day” by H.D.

"Mid-Day"

The light beats upon me.

I am startled—

A split leaf crackles on the paved floor—

I am anguished—defeated.

 

A slight wind shakes the seed-pods.

My thoughts are spent

As the black seeds.

[ . . . ]

 

H.D.'s poem "Mid-Day" was published in the 1916 Some Imagist Poets anthology. To read the poem in full in this publication context follow the links below:

Archive.org

The Modernist Journals Project

Project Gutenberg (text version)

“To a Fumbling Lover” by Jeanne D’Orge

"To a Fumbling Lover"

The sea would know the way to go about it

The moon has taught the tide a thousand

subtle ways of mastery

[ . . . ]

Jeanne D'Orge's poem "To a Fumbling Lover" was published in 1920 in the third Others anthology. To read this poem in full in a digitized version of this publication, follow the link(s) below:

Archive.org 

Sonnet “This is no time for prayers or words or song” by Nancy Cunard

Sonnet

This is no time for prayers or words or song.

With folded hands we sit and slowly stare.

The world's old wheels go round, and like a fair

The clowns and peep-shows ever pass along.

[ . . . ]

Nancy Cunard's sonnet "This is no time for prayers or words or song" was published in the first "cycle" of the Wheels anthology in 1916. To read this sonnet in full in a digitized version of this publication, follow the link(s) below:

Archive.org

Modernist Journals Project

“Sick Leave” by Siegfried Sassoon

"Sick Leave"

When I'm asleep, dreaming and lulled and warm,—

They come, the homeless ones, the noiseless dead.

While the dim charging breakers of the storm

Bellow and drone and rumble overhead,

[ . . . ]

Siegfried Sassoon's poem "Sick Leave" was published in Georgian Poetry 1918-1919. To read this poem in full in a digitized version of this publication, follow the link(s) below:

Archive.org