WOULDST thou not be content to die
When low-hung fruit is hardly clinging,
And golden Autumn passes by?
Beneath this delicate rose-gray sky,
While sunset bells are faintly ringing,
Wouldst thou not be content to die?
For wintry webs of mist on high
Out of the muffled earth are springing,
......
O SINGER of Persephone!
In the dim meadows desolate
Dost thou remember Sicily?
Still through the ivy flits the bee
Where Amaryllis lies in state;
O Singer of Persephone!
Simætha calls on Hecate
And hears the wild dogs at the gate;
......
I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.
I feel my fate in what I cannot fear.
I learn by going where I have to go.
We think by feeling. What is there to know?
I hear my being dance from ear to ear.
I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.
Of those so close beside me, which are you?
God bless the Ground! I shall walk softly there,
......
Bells in the town alight with spring
converse, with a concordance of new airs
make clear the fresh and ancient sound they sing.
People emerge from winter to hear them ring,
children glitter with mischief and the blind man hears
bells in the town alight with spring.
Even he on his eyes feels the caressing
finger of Persephone, and her voice escaped from tears
......
Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
......
These are villanelles by Michael R. Burch and and villanelle-like poems, including a new new poetic form I invented, the “trinelle” or “triplenelle.”
Villanelle: She Always Grew Roses
by Michael R. Burch
for my grandmother, Lillian Lee
Tell us, heart, what the season discloses.
......
Villanelles by Michael R. Burch
These are villanelles by Michael R. Burch and related poetic forms with refrains, such as the rondel, roundel and rondeau.
Villanelle: The Divide
by Michael R. Burch
The sea was not salt the first tide...
......
The cottage near the wood is crowded in blooms,
Its creamy facade is enlivened with many hues;
And large vases of flowers grace several rooms.
Joy throughout the days with the delicate fumes,
and legendary exotic, natural splendor issues.
The cottage near the wood is crowded in blooms.
Redbirds sing gold sunshine, or of pearly moons,
Nature creates beautiful at the merest excuse,
......
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