July / Michael Field

July

There is a month between the swath and sheaf
          When grass is gone
And corn still grassy,
                    When limes are massy
     With hanging leaf
And pollen-coloured blooms whereon
          Bees are voices we can hear,
      So hugely dumb
This silent month of the attaining year.
The white-faced roses slowly disappear
From field and hedgerow, and no more flowers come:
                    Earth lies in strain of powers
                    Too terrible for flowers:
And would we know
     Her burthen we must go
Forth from the vale, and, ere the sunstrokes slacken,
     Stand at a moorland's edge and gaze
     Across the hush and blaze
Of the clear-burning, verdant summer bracken;
          For in that silver flame
          Is writ July's own name —
          The ineffectual, numbed sweet
          Of passion at its heat.

~~
Michael Field
from Underneath the Bough, 1893

[Poem is in the public domain worldwide]

Michael Field biography

July: A pastoral poem / William Perfect

July: A pastoral poem

Ye Dryads, who woo the recess
Where the oak's ample shadow extends,
To your haunts of retirement I press,
And the muse my intrusion attends.
From the morning too brilliant I stray,
From the solar meridian blaze,
When mute is the chorister's lay,
And the sun darts his vertical rays.

Retirement, how sweet is thy pow'r!
I fly from the indolent breeze;
I fly from the hot-parching hour;
Receive me, ye gloom-shedding trees.
With you lonely silence prevails,
You shelter my Celadon's seat,
Whose cot no ambition assails,
Except to be honest and neat.

No sycophant here shall be heard,
Where Friendship her quietude seeks,
Sincerity utters the word
From the lips of Veracity speaks.
What tho' in this temperate scite,
This hermitage, hidden and mean,
No pane of high polish the light
Reflects to illumine the scene;

What tho' on the unadorn'd wall
Shall sculpture her chissel deny!
No portal conduct to the hall,
Where paintings replenish the eye!
Yet here, in profusion of sweets,
Calm Solitude leads by the hand
The hind that Felicity meets,
And scorns every wish to be grand.

The gay fascination of wealth
No envy to Celadon brings,
Be his but contentment and health,
With pity he looks down on kings.
Secure from vexation and strife,
Devotion sheds balm on his breast;
How smooth is that tenor of life,
Where conscience strews poppies of rest.

The amaranth has not deny'd
The eglantine's blossoms to join;
The lily, high rising in pride,
Her silver extols to the vine.
The boughs of the apple and pear
A canopy mutually form,
His cottage from perils to spare,
When rises the war of the storm.

E'en now clouds collecting behold,
Whose darkness conceals the sun's light,
Tho' noon yet what horrors unfold!
Present an unseasonable night.
The thunder, impressive of pain,
Rolls awful solemnity round;
Thro' clouds it reverb'rates again;
Re-echoes the dread-striking sound.

How dark and how dismal the scene!
Now rushes in torrents the rain;
Red flashes of fate intervene,
How shakes with convulsions the plain!
Let elements wildly contend,
Tho' the aether dissolve in a blaze;
To the breast of my unappall'd friend,
Their fury no trouble conveys.

The terrible concert is o'er,
Hush'd all its unfortunate rage;
Great Ruler to thee let me pour
The thanks which my bosom engage.
The tempest is o'er, and the sun
Descends with his Thetis to rest,
If e'er by my theme thou wert won,
Come, Delia, sole queen of my breast.

Lo! Ev'ning, mild daughter of Day,
In aspect as thee, most serene,
Her smiles shall enliven my lay,
So calm and unclouded her mien.
The lark to her nestlings descends,
The wood deepens faster to brown;
To the village the cottager bends,
The village that's sought by the town.

The flocks and the herds are at large,
Their coverts of coolness they leave
To taste of the rills blady marge,
And share the soft gifts of the eve.
The swallow, in search of his prey,
Skims lightly o'er thistle and brake,
Glides swift as for plunder, or prey,
His wings dash the wave of the lake.

How bright are the smiles of the youth,
Where summer perpetually reigns!
Thou gem of original truth,
Shall we join in the dance on the plains?
Thro' the fields where the purple-ey'd tare
Blooms lavish thy presence to greet:
To the glade of refreshment repair,
Where offers the moss-cushion'd seat.

To gain a repast for the eye,
Yon eminence shall we explore;
There, Delia, together descry
The streamers that crimson the shore,
Till the view by gradation shall fade,
The ev'ning's late shadows prevail,
And Cynthia soft mantles in shade,
Full orb'd, tells her wonderful tale.

Thou pride of my pastoral lay,
Dear maid of my uniform love,
Soon the morn of the bright summer's day,
And its noon must to ev'ning remove.
Whose bliss-giving shadows are fled,
But soon shall the morning renew;
Her charms that no longer are spread,
To paint the magnificent view.

How like is the portrait of man:
The morn of his infancy fades,
The race of his manhood soon ran,
And age sinks in death's night of shades.
But like welcome morning's return,
Re-born the sunk mortal shall rise,
In triumph shall burst from the urn,
And beam in the bliss of the skies.

~~
William Perfect (1737-1809)
from Sentimental Magazine, July 1774

[Poem is in the public domain worldwide]

William Perfect biography

Lovers' Lane / Thomas Moult

Lovers' Lane

This cool quiet of trees
In the grey dusk of the north,
In the green half-dusk of the west,
Where fires still glow;
These glimmering fantasies
Of foliage branching forth
And drooping into rest;
Ye lovers, know
That in your wanderings
Beneath this arching brake
Ye must attune your love
To hushed words.
For here is the dreaming wisdom of
The unmovable things . . .
     And more:– walk softly, lest ye wake
A thousand sleeping birds.

~~

Thomas Moult (1893-1974)

from Down Here the Hawthorne, 1921

[Poem is in the public domain in the United States]

Thomas Moult biography

God Smiles / Will Dockery

God Smiles

Star gazing
all by myself
on Mulvey Street.
Stars glimmer brightly
in colors like I've never seen before.
The man next door leaves,
drives off in his rattling sedan.
Being here,
feeling the perfect breeze.
Strange fog floats by
but the stars shine
right through.
You can shine, too.
God smiles.

~~
Will Dockery, 2000
from Selected Poems, 1976-2019, 2019 

[All rights reserved - used with permission]

Vincent Van Gogh (1853-1890), Starry Night over the Rhône, 1888 (detail)

Will Dockery biography

Night Movement — New York / Carl Sandburg

Night Movement — New York

In the night, when the sea-winds take the city in their arms,
And cool the loud streets that kept their dust noon and afternoon;
In the night, when the sea-birds call to the lights of the city,
The lights that cut on the skyline their name of a city;
In the night, when the trains and wagons start from a long way off
For the city where the people ask bread and want letters;
In the night the city lives too — the day is not all.
In the night there are dancers dancing and singers singing,
And the sailors and soldiers look for numbers on doors.
In the night the sea-winds take the city in their arms.

~~
Carl Sandburg (1878-1967)
from Smoke and Steel, 1920

[Poem is in the public domain in Canada and the United States]

Carl Sandburg biography

Mike Warot, Chicago at Night, 2010. CC BY 2.0, Wikimedia Commons

At the Gates of Dawn / George J. Dance

At the Gates of Dawn

(a cento)

Night prowls, scratches sand, & then pads on,
the gnomes are sleeping in their gnomish homes,
when darkness is increased by 1, to 7
& from the icy waters underground

a scarlet eagle rises, shining gold
on all. Floating down, the light resounds
blindingly – flap flicker flicker / Blam pow pow –

& all the land is lime and limpid green.
Amidst the grass, dandelions thrive.
Buttercups cup the light in the foggy dew.

Change, return, success, going & coming,
nothing can be destroyed once & for all:
Look at the sun, look at the sky, look at the river
lazily winding, finding its way to sea.

~~
George J. Dance, 2007
from Doggerel, and other doggerel, 2015

[All rights reserved - used with permission]

Lies through a Lens, A Pink Sunrise Disturbs the Quiet of the Blue Hour, Wareham UK, 2015.

CC BY, 2.0, Wikimedia Commons

George J. Dance biography

Over hill, over dale / William Shakespeare

Over hill, over dale,
Thorough bush, thorough brier,
Over park, over pale,
Thorough flood, thorough fire,
I do wander everywhere,
Swifter than the moon's sphere;
And I serve the fairy queen,
To dew her orbs upon the green.
The cowslips tall her pensioners be:
In their gold coats spots you see;
Those be rubies, fairy favours,
In those freckles live their savours:
I must go seek some dewdrops here
And hang a pearl in every cowslip's ear.
Farewell, thou lob of spirits; I'll be gone:
Our queen and all our elves come here anon.

~~
William Shakespeare (1564-1616)
from A Midsummer Night's Dream, 1600

[Poem is in the public domain worldwide]

William Shakespeare biography

The New Colossus / Emma Lazarus

The New Colossus

(Written in aid of the Bartholdi Pedestal Fund, 1883.)

Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame,
With conquering limbs astride from land to land;
Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand
A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame
Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name
Mother of Exiles. From her beacon-hand
Glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command
The air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame.
"Keep, ancient lands, your storied pomp!" cries she
With silent lips. "Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to be free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!"

~~
Emma Lazarus (1849-1887)
from Poems, 1888

[Poem is in the public domain worldwide]

Dietmar Rabisch, Statue of Liberty, New York City, 2012. CC BY-SA, Wikimedia Commons.

Emma Lazarus biography

Just Think! / Robert Service

Just Think!

Just think! some night the stars will gleam
     Upon a cold, grey stone,
And trace a name with silver beam,
     And lo! ’twill be your own.

That night is speeding on to greet
     Your epitaphic rhyme.
Your life is but a little beat
     Within the heart of Time.

A little gain, a little pain,
     A laugh, lest you may moan;
A little blame, a little fame,
     A star-gleam on a stone.

~~ 
Robert Service (1874-1958)
from Rhymes of a Rolling Stone, 1912

[Poem is in the public domain in Canada and the United States]

Robert Service biography

Ara Duzian, "Just Think" (Robert Service / Ara Duzian)

To Canada / James Alexander Tucker

To Canada

Unlike all leaves or, stout or slender,
All flowers kiss'd by summer's breath –
Which die in shame – the Maple's splendor
Is greatest in her hour of death.

Dear country, should occasion call
Thy sons to die in Freedom's strife,
Like thine own maple emblem fall
More glorious ev'n in death than life.

~~

James Alexander Tucker (1872-1903)

from Poems, 1904

[Poem is in the public domain worldwide]

Will Longstaff (1879-1953), Ghosts of Vimy Ridge, 1931. Public domain, Wikimedia Commons.

James Alexander Tucker biography

July's featured poem

The Penny Blog's featured poem for July 2021:

July Midnight, by Amy Lowell

[...]

As you lean against me,
Moon-white,
The air all about you
Is slit, and pricked, and pointed with sparkles of lemon-green flame
[...]

https://gdancesbetty.blogspot.com/2010/07/july-midnight-amy-lowell.html

Penny's Top 20 / June 2021

    

Penny's Top 20

The most-visited poems on  The Penny Blog in June 2021:

  1.  June Rain, Richard Aldington

  2.  Spring Wind in London, Katherine Mansfield

  3.  The Tent of Noon, Bliss Carman

  4.  June Night, Sara Teasdale

  5.  June: A pastoral poem, William Perfect
  6.  The moon and stars are making love, George J. Dance
  7.  Francis Turner, Edgar Lee Masters

  8.  A June Night, Emma Lazarus
  9.  If  —, Rudyard Kipling
10.  June is Coming, John Burroughs

11.  Esthetique du Mal, Wallace Stevens
12.  The Passionate Shepherd to His Love, Christopher Marlowe
13.  Accompaniment, Hector de Saint Denys Garneau
14.  The World's Body, AE Reiff 
15.  News, AE Reiff
16.  Lana Turner Has Collapsed!, Frank O'Hara
17.  Ode to Sport, Pierre de Coubertin

18.  The Man with the Blue Guitar, Wallace Stevens
19.  Believe It or Not, George J. Dance

20. June, Francis Ledwidge

Source: Blogger, "Stats"