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Bitter–tasting ice —

Kori nigaku enso ga nodo o uruoseri

Bitter–tasting ice —
Just enough to wet the throat
Of a sewer rat.

poem by Matsuo Basho
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Rat Poison

I got the I got the I got the I got the I got the I got the
(boom boom, boom bah!)
I got the I got the I got the I got the I got the I got the
I got the poison
Rat rat rat rat rat poison
Rat rat rat rat rat rat rat poison
(boom boom, boom bah!)
I got I got I got the poison
I got I got I got the remedy
Rat rat rat rat rat poison
Rat rat rat rat rat rat rat poison
(boom boom, boom bah!)
I got the poison!
(boom boom, boom bah!)
I got the I got the I got the I got the I got the I got the
I got the poison
(boom boom, boom bah!)

song performed by Prodigy
Added by Lucian Velea
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Ice Ice Baby

(vanilla ice, earthquake, m. smooth)
Yo, vip, lets kick it!
Ice ice baby, ice ice baby
All right stop, collaborate and listen
Ice is back with my brand new invention
Something grabs a hold of me tightly
Then I flow like a harpoon daily and nightly
Will it ever stop? yo -- I dont know
Turn off the lights and Ill glow
To the extreme I rock a mic like a vandal
Light up a stage and wax a chump like a candle.
Dance, bum rush the speaker that booms
Im killing your brain like a poisonous mushroom
Deadly, when I play a dope melody
Anything less than the best is a felony
Love it or leave it, you better gain way
You better hit bulls eye, the kid dont play
If there was a problem, yo, Ill solve it
Check out the hook while my dj revolves it
Ice ice baby vanilla, ice ice baby vanilla
Ice ice baby vanilla, ice ice baby vanilla
Now that the party is jumping
With the bass kicked in, the vegas are pumpin
Quick to the point, to the point no faking
Im cooking mcs like a pound of bacon
Burning them if theyre not quick and nimble
I go crazy when I hear a cymbal
And a hi hat with a souped up tempo
Im on a roll and its time to go solo
Rollin in my 5.0
With my ragtop down so my hair can blow
The girlies on standby, waving just to say hi
Did you stop? no -- I just drove by
Kept on pursuing to the next stop
I busted a left and Im heading to the next block
That block was dead
Yo -- so I continued to a1a beachfront ave.
Girls were hot wearing less than bikinis
Rockman lovers driving lamborghinis
Jealous cause Im out geting mine
Shay with a gauge and vanilla with a nine
Reading for the chumps on the wall
The chumps acting ill because theyre so full of eight balls
Gunshots ranged out like a bell
I grabbed my nine -- all I heard were shells
Falling on the concrete real fast
Jumped in my car, slammed on the gas
Bumper to bumper the avenues packed
Im trying to get away before the jackers jack
Police on the scene, you know what I mean

[...] Read more

song performed by Vanilla Ice
Added by Lucian Velea
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Ice Ice Baby

(vanilla ice, earthquake, m. smooth)
Yo, vip, lets kick it!
Ice ice baby, ice ice baby
All right stop, collaborate and listen
Ice is back with my brand new invention
Something grabs a hold of me tightly
Then I flow like a harpoon daily and nightly
Will it ever stop? yo -- I dont know
Turn off the lights and Ill glow
To the extreme I rock a mic like a vandal
Light up a stage and wax a chump like a candle.
Dance, bum rush the speaker that booms
Im killing your brain like a poisonous mushroom
Deadly, when I play a dope melody
Anything less than the best is a felony
Love it or leave it, you better gain way
You better hit bulls eye, the kid dont play
If there was a problem, yo, Ill solve it
Check out the hook while my dj revolves it
Ice ice baby vanilla, ice ice baby vanilla
Ice ice baby vanilla, ice ice baby vanilla
Now that the party is jumping
With the bass kicked in, the vegas are pumpin
Quick to the point, to the point no faking
Im cooking mcs like a pound of bacon
Burning them if theyre not quick and nimble
I go crazy when I hear a cymbal
And a hi hat with a souped up tempo
Im on a roll and its time to go solo
Rollin in my 5.0
With my ragtop down so my hair can blow
The girlies on standby, waving just to say hi
Did you stop? no -- I just drove by
Kept on pursuing to the next stop
I busted a left and Im heading to the next block
That block was dead
Yo -- so I continued to a1a beachfront ave.
Girls were hot wearing less than bikinis
Rockman lovers driving lamborghinis
Jealous cause Im out geting mine
Shay with a gauge and vanilla with a nine
Reading for the chumps on the wall
The chumps acting ill because theyre so full of eight balls
Gunshots ranged out like a bell
I grabbed my nine -- all I heard were shells
Falling on the concrete real fast
Jumped in my car, slammed on the gas
Bumper to bumper the avenues packed
Im trying to get away before the jackers jack
Police on the scene, you know what I mean

[...] Read more

song performed by Vanilla Ice
Added by Lucian Velea
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A-Rat-A-Tat-Tat.

'A-rat-a-tat-tat.'
You got it!
'A-rat-a-tat-tat.'
You got it!
'A-rat-a-tat-tat.'
You got it!
'A-rat-a-tat...
Tat-tat-tat.'

No more do I eat fried fat back.
Or smothered pork chops,
To put pounds on my thighs...
Butt or back!
Biscuits are my weakness,
So I ain't touching that.

Neck bones I leave alone.
And other greasy meats,
I don't eat.
I prefer to ignore that,
And them I don't condone!
Too sleazy for me.

'A-rat-a-tat-tat.'
You got it!
'A-rat-a-tat-tat.'
You got it!
'A-rat-a-tat-tat.'
You got it!
'A-rat-a-tat...
Tat-tat-tat.'

I do my best to eat fresh vegetables.
With a prepared fresh salad...
Adding fruits and nutts,
To keep my energy up!

Lots of exercise I do!
And conscious to take naps.
With meditation and deep breathing...
To keep my body sleek.
Everyday of the week!

With a diet less treated by soft drinks,
And preprocessed sweets.
I do what I can to be energized...
And my eyes kept open wide,
No aches and pains I'm going to sigh.

'A-rat-a-tat-tat.'

[...] Read more

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Everyone's Tasting Fire

Catching fire in my throat
As I leave this place
The bitter taste of it stings my words
But then everyone’s tasting fire
And higher
And higher we go
We learn as we go
The bitter taste of it stings our words
Everyone’s tasting fire
And higher
And higher we go
We learn as we go
The bitter taste of it stings our words
Everyone’s tasting fire
And there’s no sympathy
Cause we’re all
In the same place
Same place
Everyone’s tasting fire
And higher
And higher we go
We learn as we go
Everyone’s tasting fire
No water
Coming to save our lives
Like it was
Almost perfect
Before
Everyone’s tasting fire
And higher
And higher we go
We learn as we go
Everyone was tasting fire
And higher
And higher we went
We learned as we went
That everyone’s tasting fire
And higher
And higher we go
We learn as we go
But if everyone’s tasting fire
Then who’s gonna get the water?
Everyone’s tasting fire
And higher
Who’s gonna get the water?
Everyone’s tasting fire
And higher
And higher
And everyone’s tasting fire
But if everyone’s tasting fire

[...] Read more

poem by Mye3
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Rat Attack

Rat fear
Rat near
Bright black eyes
French fries
Meat pies
Wall walkers
Human stalkers
Rat night
Rat fright

Rat fear
Rat near
Human waste
Dirty place
Gleeful face
Boy with club
Dull thud
Rat dies
Rat prize

Rat fear
Rat near
‘Brave’ team
Ferrets mean
Dogs keen
Whiskered ranger
Senses danger
Rat unseen
Rat supreme

Rat fear
Rat near
Thug with gun
Sick fun
Thinks he’s won
Stinging pain
Human shame
Rat cries
Rat dies

Rat Attack
Fight back
Don’t despise
Bright black eyes
So wise
Wall walker
Shadow stalker,
Rat unseen
Rat supreme

[...] Read more

poem by Alison Campbell
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Too Cold

(vanilla ice, earthquake, m. smooth)
All right stop, collaborate and listen
Ice is back I got a brand new invention
Something grabs a hold of me tightly
Flow like a harpoon daily and nightly
Will it ever stop? yo-i dont know
Now turn off the lights (huh) and Ill glow
And to the extreme I rock a mic like a vandal
Light up a stage and wax a chump like a candle
Too cold, too cold
Too cold, too cold
Too cold, too cold
Too cold
But you be talkin that shi*(repeating until next verse)
Dance, bum rush the speaker that booms
Im killing your brain like a poisonous mushroom
Deadly, now as I play a dope melody
Anything less than the best is a felony
Love it or leave it, you better gain way
You better hit the bulls eye, the kid dont play
And if there was a problem, yo, Ill solve it
Check out the hook while my dj revolves it
Ice ice baby, ice ice baby
Ice ice baby, ice ice baby
Take heed, cause Im a lyrical poet
Miamis on the scene just in case you didnt know it
My town, that created all the bass sound
Enough to shake and kick holes in the ground
cause my style is like a chemical spill
Feasible rhymes you can vision and feel
Conducted and formed, this is a hell of a concept
We make it hype and know you wanna step with this
Swamp plays on the fade, slice like a ninja
Cut like a razor blade so fast, other djs say damn
If rhyme was a drug, you know Id sell it by the gram
Keep my composure when its time to get loose
Magnetized by the mic and when I kick my juice
And if there was a problem, you know that I would solve it
Check out the hook while my dj revolves it.
Ice ice baby (throw your hands in the air, let me know youre out there)
Ice ice baby, ice ice baby (throw your hands in the air, let me know youre out there)
Ice ice baby, too fuc*in cold
Too cold, too cold, too cold, too cold
Ice ice baby
Too cold, too cold
Ice ice baby
Too cold, too cold
Ice ice baby
Too cold, too cold
Ice ice baby

[...] Read more

song performed by Vanilla Ice
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Rat and the Owl

A rat is moving on the ground;
It searches for something to eat;
’Tis night and it must quickly find
Some food or else, it must sure starve!

A large owl stands with two large eyes;
It turns its neck to scan the ground;
It strains its eyes to catch a prey,
And sees a rat shuffling across!

Both search for food in frantic ways;
Both need to eat to stay alive;
The owl is like a ghost at night;
Its large eyes contrast rat’s small ones!

The owl is predator for rat;
The rat is prey for owl at night;
The owl is sure to pin the rat,
And death is sure for the latter!

The rat moves on unwarily!
It nears the owl innocently;
It does not know that death is near;
Its mind is bent on searching food!

The owl is watching rat’s movements;
The prey is rather small in size;
It tries to keep the rat within
Its visual fields, and take a strike!

The rat is unaware of owl;
It has not sniffed the danger near;
With nostrils engrossed in food-search,
It scurries to and fro for long!

The owl is planning when to swoop;
An opportune moment must come;
The rat must take a moment’s rest;
The owl’s claws take the rat to nest!

The predator is smart and swift;
The prey will certainly get caught;
There is a small chance to escape;
But, predator must make the fault!

Both owl and rat must eat to live;
The rat is prey for owl always;
The rat can still avoid its death;
It must respect the owl’s beak-might!

[...] Read more

poem by John Celes
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You Keep Pushing That Bash Back

You can push that bitter bash back.
You can push that bitter bash back.
You can push that bitter bash back.
Don't put any pity in a bitter bashed bag.
To weigh you down like a wet rag had.

You can push that bitter bash back.
You can push that bitter bash back.
You can push that bitter bash back.
Don't put any pity in a bitter bashed bag.
To weigh you down like a wet rag had.

You keep pushing that bash back.
You keep pushing that bash back.
You keep pushing that bash back.
Don't drag that bashing or be tagged.

You can push that bitter bash back.
You can push that bitter bash back.
Push it push it,
That bash back!
You keep pushing,
That bash back!
Push it push it,
That bash back!
You keep pushing,
That bash back!
You can push that bitter bash back.

You can push that bitter bash back.
You can push that bitter bash back.
You can push that bitter bash back.
Don't put any pity in a bitter bashed bag.
To weigh you down like a wet rag had.

Don't put any pity in a bitter bashed bag.
To weigh you down like a wet rag had.

Push it push it,
That bash back!
You keep pushing,
That bash back!
Push it push it,
That bash back!
You keep pushing,
That bash back!
You can push that bitter bash back.

You keep pushing,
That bash back!

[...] Read more

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Bitter

Bitter, bitter, bitter, the taste of men and the curdled perfumes
of their women putting on weight like the moon
and the gaudy hopelessness of their ejaculant children
living in the extinct carapace of a condemned volcano; bitter the lies
they whisper in sleep in dreams to the gods they keep
like spare rooms with skeleton keys
to their public coffins and closets. And bitter the nightwind
that vipers over the schooled sands of their cities
looming a harp of astringent acids into the whole cloth
of a funeral shroud, a body bag to contain the miscreance of their music.
Face after face after face, among orchards, planets, waves,
how many come to fruition, how many fall from ripeness
in unknown places, elicit arms, looking up into the sun that wined them
and sent them away without tears, mysterious sugars
in the fleets of their heart, and seeds, and green
superstitious stars tangled in the lifelines of their unmooring,
to unknown exorcisms on barbarous shores that fear them?
Their blood unspooled like a ribbon for a gift
they never gave, their blood, a scarlet noose of spectral chromosomes
slumped across a bough on the tree of their bitter knowledge
to lynch the lean thief and the ardent stranger
to the rigorous sorrows of their vaporous lustrations; bitter the fate
of the poor as they wait in a traffic jam of genes for the lights to change,
and bitter the restless, blood-drenched soil that receives them
like an embassy overwhelmed by the emergency of their arrival.
Are the paupers of dawn brighter in the root than in the flower,
is there no gentleness left in the flaring poppy to console them,
no milk that isn’t soured, no crumb of light in the pantry
to redeem the crushed heartscapes of a disinfected dream?
Bitter the monstrous sterilities of affluence
that dance on their graves like shovels full of deranged stars
elated by a fate unworthy of their shining, and bitter the church
they pearl around the lie of their filth
to convince the maggot of wings. That song is dead in the mouths of men,
that song is rock that once transformed the desert into roses
and gathered eyes like bees, like poets to their unfolding,
and bitter the aftermath of forgeries that heed the call
but will not answer the singer in the well
hoarse with mysteries in supple tongues
that confound the fallen towers with echoes, thieves, and voiceless birds.
And bitter to know this, bitter to say this, bitter
to discover this truth on the wrecked shores of the heart
the corpse of a beached dolphin suffocating under its own dead weight,
betrayed by the Judas-needle of too many messianic norths.
And there shall be no respite from the pettiness
of the enflamed parasite grown fanatical with the consumption of power,
no grace in the waltz of the tide that wears its gown of oil
like bitter weeds and formic nettles to a funeral ball
celebrating the providential death of excellence, no refuge
from the scorching wind that burns the eyes like glass

[...] Read more

poem by Patrick White
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Black Bruises IV

I can gorge the vile blackness,
the eviscerated acquiescence
like a dog-eats-dog carnival
I can endure the struggle
tasting blotted inks,
tasting cheap champagnes,
tasting one's molting skin,
tasting a chance to begin,
tasting cold greasy dishes,
tasting stark carnal sin,
tasting tar and nicotine,
tasting saline misery,
but am I the only one tasting
these black bruised savors?

poem by Norman Santos
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Admit The Rat

I got a story
Bout all these rats
All the sewer rats
All these gun rats
Im talkin bout all these gold diggen rats
These hood rats
My grandmothers a rat
Shes just an old school rat
My mothers a rat
Shes just a high class rat
My sisters rats
Shes just a middle class rat
My cousins rats
They just low class rats
Im tired of rats tryin to get into my boyz pockets
Im tired of rats tryin to ride around in my cars
Im tired of rats talkin all that jibber jabber to their friends
But ond day these rats are gonna be straight
No diss to rats
Cuz there are some rats that I love too
My message to you today is admit the rat in you
To all women admitt the rat in you
Admit the rat in you
Admit the rat in you
Admit the rat in you

song performed by Next
Added by Lucian Velea
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Admit The Rat (Interlude)

I got a story
bout all these rats
all the sewer rats
all these gun rats
im talkin bout all these gold diggen rats
these hood rats
my grandmothers a rat
she's just an old school rat
my mothers a rat
she's just a high class rat
my sisters rats
she's just a middle class rat
my cousins rats
they just low class rats
im tired of rats tryin to get into my boyz pockets
im tired of rats tryin to ride around in my cars
im tired of rats talkin all that jibber jabber to their friends
but ond day these rats are gonna be straight
no diss to rats
cuz there are some rats that i love too
my message to you today is admit the rat in you
to all women admitt the rat in you
admit the rat in you
admit the rat in you
admit the rat in you

song performed by Next
Added by Lucian Velea
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Its A Mans World

(ice cube)
Women theyre good for nothing no maybe one thing
To serve needs to my ding-a-ling
Im a man who loves the one-night stand
Cause after I do ya
Huh I never knew ya
Cause to kick it man it gives me the fits
They wanna lay with they nose under your armpits
Ice cube wont wait so give it up cow
After we do it you can go home now
Im a brother with a big long...
(yo-yo)
First of all let me tell you my name its yo-yo
When down on a girl first the fist and thats a no-no
Yo-yo thinks the kitchen sink should be thrown in
Niggas be scheming and fiending to stick the bone in
No, yo-yos not a hoe or a whore
And if thats what youre here for
Exit through the door
Theres more
To see of me but youre blind so
Women like me are fading brothers in the 9-0
(ice cube)
Ay what up buttercupper miss yo-yo
I know you like to rap and like to flow so
But when it comes to hip-hop this is a mans world
Stay down and play the playground you little girl
(yo-yo)
What youre saying I dont consider it as rapping
Cause youre on rewind and Im the new whats-happening
It never fails Ill always get respect
And you lose so take a rain check
(ice cube)
Hell no cause you know that Im first and youre second
If it wasnt for me you probably be pregnant
And barefoot complaining that your back is aching
Shaking and faking while Im bringing home the bacon
(yo-yo)
Well youre mistaken
Its not going that far
I make brothers like you play the back yard
You used to flow with the title but I took it
Bring home the bacon but find another hoe to cook it
(ice cube)
Damn it look it
Cause youre talking a lot of bull
(yo-yo)
Well Im not your puppet so dont even try to pull
(ice cube)
This is a mans world thank you very much

[...] Read more

song performed by Ice Cube
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Dam that Keele Built

This is the dam that Keele built.
This is the stream that brought the water to fill the dam that Keele built;
This is the Water and Sewer Brigade,
That measured the stream that brought the water to fill the dam that Keele built;

This is the Engineer by Trade --
Head of the Water and Sewer Brigade,
Who measured the stream that brought the water to fill the dam that Keele built;

These are the Calculations made
By the Eminent Engineer by Trade,
Head of the Water and Sewer Brigade,
Who measured the stream that brought the water to fill the dam that Keele built;

This is the scornful Mr Wade,
Who sneered at the Calculations made
By the Eminent Engineer by Trade,
Head of the Water and Sewer Brigade,
Who measured the stream that brought the water to fill the dam that Keele built;

This is the Minister quite dismayed
At the sight of the Scornful Mr Wade,
Who sneered at the Calculations made
By the Eminent Engineer by Trade,
Head of the Water and Sewer Brigade,
Who measured the stream that brought the water to fill the dam that Keele built;

This is the Sydneyite afraid
That a serious blunder will be made,
Because of the Minister, quite dismayed
At the sight of the Scornful Mr Wade,
Who sneered at the Calculations made
By the Eminent Engineer by Trade,
Head of the Water and Sewer Brigade,
Who measured the stream that brought the water to fill the dam that Keele built.

poem by Andrew Barton Paterson
Added by Poetry Lover
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The Cat and the Dog

Once upon a time a cat
And a dog, silently followed by a rat
Set out on a journey
To the land of Timberney
The cat and the dog were the best of friends
And their ties of friendship was hard to mend

The dog suddenly noticed the rat
And have him a friendly pat
In the forest of Kellogg
Sat the cat, the rat and the dog
On a well built log
They heartily ate their lunch
Munch, munch, chomp, chomp, munch
All of them ate, ate and ate
Not noticing that at this rate
They will never reach Timberney
In order to complete their journey

Excited with this new friendship
All the three went to have a sip
From the nearby lake
And spent nearly an hour for this sake
It had suddenly, suddenly become dark
And the dog told them to mark
The tree on which each of them slept
And the rat meanwhile wept and wept and wept
For it had fear of the dark
And thus ended Day 1 of the journey they had embarked

In the middle of the night
The cat woke up and sat upright
The dog too was awake
Staring at a lengthy black snake
They began to hatch a plan
Whispering as low as the possibly can
The cat woke up the rat
And tempted him to eat a piece of dead bad
Innocently the rat came up to the cat
And together they sat
For a dinner that never was
But both them hogged without a pause

The dog as per the plan hid
Stealthily behind a bush in a bid
To have the rat for dinner
As the light grew dimmer and dimmer
Like a hungry lion he pounced
On the rat who was trounced
And there lay a dead example

[...] Read more

poem by anonym
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With Their Doings Done

Some feel free to be sadistic,
With doings done.
And the having of fun.
Idealistic realists,
With doings done.
And a wanting of truth to appear and come.

And they who are minimalists,
Try to reduce materialistic wishes...
With doings undone seeking to do.

Some feel free to be sadistic,
With doings done.
And the having of fun.
Idealistic realists,
With doings done.
And a wanting of truth to appear and come
And they who are minimalists,
Try to reduce materialistic wishes...
With doings undone seeking to do.

Many have slowed their paces...
With their doings done.
Doings done.
Eliminating their rat races...
With their doings done.
Doings done.
And celebrating tasting life...
As if a piece of cake,
To savor.

Many have slowed their paces...
With their doings done.
Doings done.
Eliminating their rat races...
With their doings done.
Doings done.
And celebrating tasting life...
As if a piece of cake,
To savor.

Many have slowed their paces,
With a tasting of life to savor.
Many have slowed their paces,
With a tasting of life to savor.
Many have slowed their paces,
With a tasting of life to savor.

Many have slowed their paces,
With their doings done.

[...] Read more

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Tamar

I
A night the half-moon was like a dancing-girl,
No, like a drunkard's last half-dollar
Shoved on the polished bar of the eastern hill-range,
Young Cauldwell rode his pony along the sea-cliff;
When she stopped, spurred; when she trembled, drove
The teeth of the little jagged wheels so deep
They tasted blood; the mare with four slim hooves
On a foot of ground pivoted like a top,
Jumped from the crumble of sod, went down, caught, slipped;
Then, the quick frenzy finished, stiffening herself
Slid with her drunken rider down the ledges,
Shot from sheer rock and broke
Her life out on the rounded tidal boulders.

The night you know accepted with no show of emotion the little
accident; grave Orion
Moved northwest from the naked shore, the moon moved to
meridian, the slow pulse of the ocean
Beat, the slow tide came in across the slippery stones; it drowned
the dead mare's muzzle and sluggishly
Felt for the rider; Cauldwell’s sleepy soul came back from the
blind course curious to know
What sea-cold fingers tapped the walls of its deserted ruin.
Pain, pain and faintness, crushing
Weights, and a vain desire to vomit, and soon again
die icy fingers, they had crept over the loose hand and lay in the
hair now. He rolled sidewise
Against mountains of weight and for another half-hour lay still.
With a gush of liquid noises
The wave covered him head and all, his body
Crawled without consciousness and like a creature with no bones,
a seaworm, lifted its face
Above the sea-wrack of a stone; then a white twilight grew about
the moon, and above
The ancient water, the everlasting repetition of the dawn. You
shipwrecked horseman
So many and still so many and now for you the last. But when it
grew daylight
He grew quite conscious; broken ends of bone ground on each
other among the working fibers
While by half-inches he was drawing himself out of the seawrack
up to sandy granite,
Out of the tide's path. Where the thin ledge tailed into flat cliff
he fell asleep. . . .
Far seaward
The daylight moon hung like a slip of cloud against the horizon.
The tide was ebbing
From the dead horse and the black belt of sea-growth. Cauldwell
seemed to have felt her crying beside him,

[...] Read more

poem by Robinson Jeffers
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The Two Dreams

I WILL that if I say a heavy thing
Your tongues forgive me; seeing ye know that spring
Has flecks and fits of pain to keep her sweet,
And walks somewhile with winter-bitten feet.
Moreover it sounds often well to let
One string, when ye play music, keep at fret
The whole song through; one petal that is dead
Confirms the roses, be they white or red;
Dead sorrow is not sorrowful to hear
As the thick noise that breaks mid weeping were;
The sick sound aching in a lifted throat
Turns to sharp silver of a perfect note;
And though the rain falls often, and with rain
Late autumn falls on the old red leaves like pain,
I deem that God is not disquieted.
Also while men are fed with wine and bread,
They shall be fed with sorrow at his hand.

There grew a rose-garden in Florence land
More fair than many; all red summers through
The leaves smelt sweet and sharp of rain, and blew
Sideways with tender wind; and therein fell
Sweet sound wherewith the green waxed audible,
As a bird’s will to sing disturbed his throat
And set the sharp wings forward like a boat
Pushed through soft water, moving his brown side
Smooth-shapen as a maid’s, and shook with pride
His deep warm bosom, till the heavy sun’s
Set face of heat stopped all the songs at once.
The ways were clean to walk and delicate;
And when the windy white of March grew late,
Before the trees took heart to face the sun
With ravelled raiment of lean winter on,
The roots were thick and hot with hollow grass.

Some roods away a lordly house there was,
Cool with broad courts and latticed passage wet
From rush-flowers and lilies ripe to set,
Sown close among the strewings of the floor;
And either wall of the slow corridor
Was dim with deep device of gracious things;
Some angel’s steady mouth and weight of wings
Shut to the side; or Peter with straight stole
And beard cut black against the aureole
That spanned his head from nape to crown; thereby
Mary’s gold hair, thick to the girdle-tie
Wherein was bound a child with tender feet;
Or the broad cross with blood nigh brown on it.

Within this house a righteous lord abode,

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poem by Algernon Charles Swinburne
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The Tower Beyond Tragedy

I
You'd never have thought the Queen was Helen's sister- Troy's
burning-flower from Sparta, the beautiful sea-flower
Cut in clear stone, crowned with the fragrant golden mane, she
the ageless, the uncontaminable-
This Clytemnestra was her sister, low-statured, fierce-lipped, not
dark nor blonde, greenish-gray-eyed,
Sinewed with strength, you saw, under the purple folds of the
queen-cloak, but craftier than queenly,
Standing between the gilded wooden porch-pillars, great steps of
stone above the steep street,
Awaiting the King.
Most of his men were quartered on the town;
he, clanking bronze, with fifty
And certain captives, came to the stair. The Queen's men were
a hundred in the street and a hundred
Lining the ramp, eighty on the great flags of the porch; she
raising her white arms the spear-butts
Thundered on the stone, and the shields clashed; eight shining
clarions
Let fly from the wide window over the entrance the wildbirds of
their metal throats, air-cleaving
Over the King come home. He raised his thick burnt-colored
beard and smiled; then Clytemnestra,
Gathering the robe, setting the golden-sandaled feet carefully,
stone by stone, descended
One half the stair. But one of the captives marred the comeliness
of that embrace with a cry
Gull-shrill, blade-sharp, cutting between the purple cloak and
the bronze plates, then Clytemnestra:
Who was it? The King answered: A piece of our goods out of
the snatch of Asia, a daughter of the king,
So treat her kindly and she may come into her wits again. Eh,
you keep state here my queen.
You've not been the poorer for me.- In heart, in the widowed
chamber, dear, she pale replied, though the slaves
Toiled, the spearmen were faithful. What's her name, the slavegirl's?
AGAMEMNON Come up the stair. They tell me my kinsman's
Lodged himself on you.
CLYTEMNESTRA Your cousin Aegisthus? He was out of refuge,
flits between here and Tiryns.
Dear: the girl's name?
AGAMEMNON Cassandra. We've a hundred or so other
captives; besides two hundred
Rotted in the hulls, they tell odd stories about you and your
guest: eh? no matter: the ships
Ooze pitch and the August road smokes dirt, I smell like an
old shepherd's goatskin, you'll have bath-water?
CLYTEMNESTRA
They're making it hot. Come, my lord. My hands will pour it.

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poem by Robinson Jeffers
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