Collected Poems of John Holmes

Holmes, John A., Jr.


Cazevieille [Part one: The fire; Part two: Walking and rowing; Part three: Others; Part four: Things there are only one of; Part five: Plum island

Cazevieille [Part one: The fire; Part two: Walking and rowing; Part three: Others; Part four: Things there are only one of; Part five: Plum island


(I found a noble ancient name in French,

Which being Englished means "Old Shack."

I'd never want it painted on the door,

Yet in its foreign queer exactness

It seemed a worthy word, potent for good.)

Part One


I think first of the good warm cracking fire

Remembering Parker River and the shack.

Could Marston, Warner, or could Gene or John,

Basil or Phil, remember anything

They've done more often at the River

Than peering at the fire or fetching wood?

Or sitting round it, pipe in face, and face

In book, and feet up on a chair?

The sum

Of windless nights when we have climbed and lain

Flat on our backs on top of Old town Hill

To watch the stars, the lighthouse and the train;

Of days we've climbed to mark the river's curse

Put to the sum of early morning walks

Up-lane among the apple-trees for milk,

Or quiet nightly half-miles with a pipe,

Swinging the milk can on past shapes of trees

All these would still be less than all the fires

We've laid and lighted, talked and read besides.

Add in too, the sun for good beginnings.

Waking us every morning through the door.)

Gather these sums together, let's take up

The four corners of memory, and tis

Our gold, and weigh it with the fires we've built.

See! They balance, calm, serene, unfretted

Like life itself - if lived at Parker River!

Part Two


All the good feel of thoughtful things we've dine,

And cared to do again, when we have made

Some width of water, marsh, or country road

Immortal with a gesture of the mind!

There's nothing but is worthy setting down:

The times we've talked the graveyard road

Through woods, past pine and barberry bush,

Past apple orchards back of old stone walls,

Through to the clearing, out to the island

Where to see the long line out to the island

Where we see the long line of yellow dunes,

And talk, and watch the mountainy cloud blow by,

Speaking with few words and without them, too;

The times we've set straight across the marsh,

That grass-blown reach of flatness where the sky

Goes higher up than sky does anywhere.

Barefoot we felt the warm mud, the dried grass,

And leaped the narrow ditches, followed one

And then were baffled by the marsh, and fond,

On the way back, perhaps, a gunning shelter.

Once for a sunny week when tide was high

Early, I dropped the boat's round anchor-stone

Just off the sand-bar, dozed and read Charles Lamb.

Sea gulls rose anxiously and fluttered down.

The water slapped gently at the bow. rt rocked

The row-boat like a cradle, and the sun

Was hot on miles of quiet marsh and bank;

The hours we've spent in rowing on the River:

Four oar blades dipped, pulled, and lifted wet,

Dip, pull, with arms taut, leaning and laying back,

To think the skiff a scull and think the water

Goes by, the bank and boats go by, swiftly.

Pulling up-River past the bridge, the tide

Floating us back, our arms and. oars at rest.

Or that more biting sport, to row down-River

When the tide and wind are opposite and strong.

We dip deep and the bow bangs the water,

We all heave long and curse the tricky wind

That swings the boat off-course, and makes a fight,

A full- strength fight of rowing home again

When we have drifted past the last red buoy.

Or that more tranquil rowing when the fog,

Diffused with moon, made all the brimming plane

Of river wider and more lonely-lost,

While we went smoothly gliding on a mirror

Laid flat and clouded round with moonlit mist.

Part Three


For all we say or think, only we five

Go down to Parker River on the train,

Taking our three day's food like pioneers.

We make one column of thin lonely smoke

Against the sky from one lone house, the shack

On an edge of marsh under a tall sky

At the lane's end.

But this is our ideal

Of Parker River, this is how we think

Of it away from it. For others come,

Shadowy, not quite real, except the Hills.

Clammers go by each day when tide is out,

And Gus and Mister Green and Mister Fox

Are neighbors in their degrees of solitude

To a vague scattered score of cottages,

This brings us to the launching of the raft

When ballad-poetry happened in this ways

Season and tide to launch the swimming raft

Were right, and on a sunny week-end day

The men, the solid citizens with pipes,

In flannel shirts, old pants and old straw hats,

Gazed contemplatively upon their task.

And all they gravely did not say enlarged

Their fine deliberate air. A driftwood fire

Was lit, and tarry smoke belched blackly out.

Thee children, Johnny Green and sizes up

To Elma in a scarlet swimming-suit

And helmet, watched, beside Virginia,

Their fathers lay the rollers down and heave.

The raft was floated and the run made fast,

But long before that scarlet plunge clove air

And water quick and clean, I felt, I knew

This scene could stand on any sturdy page

In some old Settler's History - the men,

The River thus, the children and the launching:

The thing had a brave epic quality!

This poem for that day to catch it's grace!


Six fishermen met on the sand

To launch a high-beached ship.

Three hauled with arm and hand,

Three pushed with back and hip.

Their children sat on a log

Half buried beside the shore.

One teased a shaggy dog,

One a green head-band wore,

The girls were golden-haired

And long-limbed every one,

Two with the boys were paired

And these were browned by sun.

A fire still burned by the rock,

Black smoke blew out in streams

From tar in a melted block

That had sealed the ship's dry seams.

A girl tied a flag to the mast,

Laughing and scarlet-coated,

When the boat was launched at last

And light by the pier floated,

Old sails were shaken out

And hung from the main-top-yard,

New rigging was placed about

And bound down hard,

At evening under the stars

The fishermen went to rest,

But over the river-bars

Young eyes watched the west,

Hand in a warm hand pressed,

Gold hair in the light wind blowing -

And this was best,

For the boy would be going.

It was late when the lovers slept,

And the children were all asleep,

None knew the watch she kept,

Nor heard her weep,

It was early when she awoke

And a single name she spoke,

And the dim moonlight had failed,

And the ship had sailed.

Part Four



Then there's the sea, always the sea, far off,

Across the meadows and beyond the dunes.

Sometimes in clean, clear air the eye can catch,

Between the golden ridges of the sand,

Blue of the wave, and see a crest of foam.

Far out and up, and melting into sky

The great deep lies, We never speak of it,

That long three thousand miles of silent sea,

But sometimes when the wind blows in to s

The muted roar from a solid nine-mile edge

Of vastness, then we say," The surf.." We listen.

Dark .

The dark at Parker River is a dark

Not merely the result of lack of lights.

The world, the world turns slowly over

Into darkness, out of light. Shadows grow

Inland, they move out toward the sea, grow gray,

Grow dark, and darken into night, slowly,

And what is lamplight, or the lighthouse flash?

Night also has its noon, its after noon.

We know this with a retina more delicate

Than that the eyelash guards, when we step out

In grass, aware of some immensity

Where light and dark are unimportant words.


No clocks cut up the day in little lengths,

For clocks are something to be late by,

Or by thin pitiful virtue, early,

Or to miss a train, but Parker River

Is journey's last good end, nowhere to go.

There day is only sunlight, coming up

Red from the sea at morning, high at noon,

Blazing low in the west by Oldtown Hill.

Time is a great invisible music,

Never quite captured but about to be.

Sometimes we hear the single instruments

Ponder their theme, and feel the counterpoint

That gives a meaning to the melody

Part Five


An old curious savage legend tells

Of runners to a mountain height, who failed,

One after one, but each man climbing higher.

The last man topped that far-off-sighted peak,

Only to see, still further west, mountains

That lifted larger still, hidden in cloud:

Thus we, who make our fortunate escape

And push where many a stout heart cannot come.

But Parker River's not the journey's end,

Those are warm words for comfort but not true.

It's a last outpost, bordering on a dream,

Like the review of day before we sleep,

For there's the sea, always the sea, far off,

Beneath the sunshine peace that we have won

Always there stirs a strange uneasiness.

Nothing our words tell, though perhaps our eyes

Move quick and restless with a yearning thought

For all Plum Island's nine-mile empty beach,

Where ocean tramples in with growling roar

Its mighty marching of the ranks of wave;

More than a thought for that hard-pounded beach

Where we have ranged for long miles either way,

And found one limit lonely as the other;

More than a thought for spaces where the heart

Finds God's own reach of room to go in,

Be hungry for, strain to, and never fear

That satisfaction will dull down the ache;

A thought that on the windy thundering shore

A man may know he's small in the world's plan,

And straighten up, harder and tall, to shout .

Later, he's larger than the inland men.

To reach Plum Island, row on a high tide

Down the River, across the shallow bay,

And drag the boat up on the muddy shore.

Half-Way House, this side of the sand, will stare,

Thinking of us, will stare us down the path

Till we turn between the scrub-oaks past the plum,

Go by the cranberry bed and climb the dune.

The wind blows, and sun is hot.

The cool surf

With green and creamy roar, crashes in waves

For miles, for miles. This is discovery,

And we are always explorers. Always

Each is his own Balboa, with a shout

Breaking upon Pacific stillness first

Of all his race and kind.

Yet what are we

To be heroic longer than a moment,

Even in secret silence - to renew a claim,

And plant for the King a staff, a proud flag

Here on the wide still margin of the mind?

From heroes we are only men again,

Or children, running on the wave-wet sand.

We once transposed the green organ music

Of ocean, the throb of thoughtful music,

To one straight clean uncomplicated song.

We stripped naked up on a windy dune

And ran in the cold waves, shouting and wet,

All morning. Hurricanes in Florida

Made surf' that summer on the whole North Shore,

Hard surf that punched and battered at the sand.

That day we stood waist deep and book the blow,

The cold stinging shock, again and again,

Feeling the caving sand beneath the foot,

Raced in the shallow reach of dragging foam,

And dried with towels woven of wind and sun,

That day we gathered good all afternoon,

Cracked timber, sand-worn boards and barrel-staves

Once part of ship or cargo swept in storm

To the beach, with all the sea dried out of them.

Behind the dunes we laid a ten-foot fire

And lit it at dark. The hard timber-strength,

Released to action, made an eager roar.

Flame in the deep center lashed like sea-waves,

Hot ribbons cracking in a wind that rose

Out of' the fire. Between us and the stars

The smoke went piling, bending, flying up

A hundred feet in a red fling of sparks.

That day ocean, fire, and song without words,

As inarticulate and eloquent

As the heart's blood, were our philosophy.

When we are old, and must remember joy,

This is a day to think upon as fierce

And full of sunlight. This exploration,

Sudden and perilous, on the edge of Time,

May yet extend the boundaries of the mind,

For there we planted for the King a flag,

And claimed that Day horizoned by the sun,

The ocean, earth, and sky, forever ours.

And rowing homeward up the River, late,

On the full evening tide, silvered with moon,

The bow pushed slowly at a wedge of ripple

River-wide. Our eyes were on the island-fire

Burning alone and brightly while we rowed,

And miles away, between the earth and sky, It still was burning when we went to bed,

  • This text is a compilation of poems by John Holmes.
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 Title Page
 Editor's Note
 On hearing someone say that every possible subject has been covered in poetry
 Sonnet [To someone I know]
 Low fog
 [Lines about a great space]
 To Joanne
 The soul's loneliness
 You, who understood
 What things I can
 The father
 The gleam
 My tree
 My little world
 The vale impassable
 The forgotten hero
 The garden
 A monument
 A death at evening
 Recipe for a journey
 From a window
 Sight and death
 In the days when the eternal hills go down
 Something from the soft wind
 The moon
 In a time of misunderstanding
 The constant battle
 A prayer [A prayer on failing eyesight]
 On being thankful
 Pleasant solitude
 Somehow, sometime, somewhere
 The pines
 A shield and a strong defence
 The high heart
 Bewilderment in church
 Advice on success in writing poetry
 Three wishes
 Tobacco and a pipe
 Grandmother's parlor
 O little sails, make haste!
 Walking on the beach
 From the Window
 On the contemplation of vastness
 The king passes by
 Beneath a tree
 Beyond the hill
 To a statuette of a little girl
 Wanderer's song
 Joshua Peabody
 Against poms and carelessness
 The way of least resistance
 Voice of the sea
 A letter unopened on my desk
 Fragments: Far horizon
 Fragments: The inquiring mind
 Fragments: The cigarette
 Fragments: History repeats
 Fragments: Yesterday, to-day, to-morrow
 Fragments: After the forest fire
 Fragments: Down to earth
 Fragments: Butter side down
 Fragments: A conversation
 Fragments: Fear
 Fragments: Inconsistency
 Fragments: A secret laughter
 To a small boy learning to read
 Reading sonnets late at night
 Walking home at night
 A ship's figure-head
 This house will never need
 Dusk falls down the roofs
 Words for a minuet
 Make yourself a way
 A childish chant
 Twice born
 Suddenly I knew
 Coming home from the library
 The visitor
 Four Songs
 The willow tree
 Rhymes of a very small boy
 Big enough
 Baggage into the land of Nod
 Song - Come again with me to Plymouth
 Portrait [The Great Man]
 A hopeful lover
 Portrait of a girl
 Writing in the woods
 Memory of A. L.
 The prisoner
 The warehouseman
 A timid lover
 Message to be found a hundred years hence
 What poetry is
 Wind on a hill
 Two o'clock
 Another sleeps
 Portrait [His enemy]
 A fancy
 At the end
 The eyesore
 The candle
 An intruder
 The street car
 On a hillside
 An old man tells a story
 Old groping
 Make believe
 Josita's banjo song
 Let it be said
 A yonge manne; an olde tale
 The cantadours pass by
 I sing
 Thoughts of a man asleep
 To poets: advice
 The reverent lover
 A quotation
 The unseen lady
 My bookshelf
 Thoughts at night
 Fall in Massachusetts
 I remember
 Lines to an old dish
 Window glass
 At a funeral
 The seekers
 Il Penseroso (R.S.)
 Effect of praise
 When hearts are young
 The clean winds
 The lover serenades
 The little street
 To one gone
 The dancers
 A poet burns some poems
 Walking in the rain
 A sacrifice to the sun
 To my cousin, H.R.B.
 The boat
 A song for you
 Window dreaming
 Rain the morning after
 A man's club
 From the tower
 Fairies by night
 The young poet
 Say good night
 The thought of you
 A youth
 The cabin boy climbs the crow's nest
 On going to bed
 Three roads
 To a girl who has black eyes
 The hilly place
 The call
 The poet's prayer
 The priest
 Two songs
 Westward ho!
 A man remembers suddenly
 At the museum
 Morning in the forest
 A charm to keep away evil
 The lover grows older
 An apology
 An old legend retold on the occasion of a certain death
 Old words
 Raw material
 The grace of god
 The skylark's flight
 The old chief
 Sudden pity
 To a young man cleaning a motor-car
 An old friend
 Fragment from an old dance
 A parting of the way
 Song of my elf
 Moon to a vagabond child
 The violinist
 A toast
 Dream places
 The second-hand bookshop
 The fireplace
 The breeze
 The seeker
 The market
 The world, the world...
 You asked
 Ask me not now
 Youth goes forth
 Prayer against blindness
 A memory
 Who has not known
 The pure of heart
 A life
 At camp-fire
 The end of day
 In the arbor
 A fireplace in December
 Poems on pictures
 Laus perennis
 The angel of love
 To a player at the Globe
 A portrait [My sister]
 An old poet
 From a hollow in the woods
 October dusk
 The shining road
 Old music
 Song to be said to my pillow
 If ever
 A door
 Trees in the wind
 The fog
 The puddle
 [Mood] Workman
 Conrad has an evening
 The child on the other shore
 A pale lady looks in a deep well
 A life
 Poetry and music [Poem] [A poem can tell]
 For the grave of unknown citizens
 To himself
 The coward
 [Moment macabre: symphony]
 Girl with a Spanish shawl (a picture)
 Conrad sleeping
 Tell me why
 An inscription
 An old, old man
 Rather than this
 If this were the last
 Portrait [His World]
 A letter in March
 Your head
 The old man and the moon
 The flaming lights
 The long watch
 On quiet hill
 Consideration of a friend
 Price of wisdom
 Jingle verse: The Boston Wanderlust
 A sailor's R.I.P.
 Turn from the fire
 Ballad of an ordinary man
 What might have been
 Ease after pain
 An April afternoon
 Stone and roots
 To Peter, who is not a real person
 Two sonnets on death and immortal man [The cold shadow]
 To a girl I know
 My enemy
 On the new moon
 The shore
 Wind in the night
 On awakening suddenly
 To the easily forgotten
 On seeing the title 'Heart of darkness'
 The marchers in the shadow
 The hour
 Peter has an evening
 Tower of glass
 My attic room
 Tir na n'og
 The philosopher at home
 Counsel from a poet, middle-aged
 The answer afterwards
 Waking [One way of waking]
 The servants of the heart
 The password
 An armchair journey
 In praise of my god
 A tide of dreams
 Good bye to a garden
 The old men
 Prayer to be shouted
 The clock strikes ten [The bell]
 To a careful young man
 This was the way
 For he hath fed
 Cazevieille [Part one: The fire; Part two: Walking and rowing; Part three: Others; Part four: Things there are only one of; Part five: Plum island
 Knowing what I know
 To losers
 Rainy April noon
 Passage to India [What dragons]
 The word [Bird of the morning sea]
 To music first
 The right word
 Who that has heard him
 Einsteinian [Wind like music]
 Ten years old before the mast
 Three woodcuts: Motor at midnight; Ship in the night; Downtown ritual
 The way the eagles die
 Even a prayer
 Adventures in the dark
 March 17, 1939 [Matriarch]
 Native timber
 The launching
 Circumstance unforeseen
 Special performance
 A matter of time
 Whatever I have said before [Sun Worshipper]
 New England names
 Class poem 1929, Tufts College
 Sell it to them, ad man!
 In a college coffee house [College coffee house]
 Prologue for poems
 Dutch dream
 Marginal notes
 Citizen saint
 Civic ceremony
 Clean tall green still
 Coming of age
 Country morning
 Day among many
 Death be not proud
 Death this year
 Sometimes to be alone
 Lying awake
 The eleventh commandment
 Every day in books
 Faculty committee on teaching
 Familiar tale
 The family face
 Family letter [In our times]
 Hard times
 A meditation
 Like spring
 The symbols
 The soul in the possession
 Being so
 The fear of dying
 Fieldbook revised [Fieldbook for summer]
 The flying earth
 Ritual - For a cow to be killed [For a cow before killing] [Cow be killed]
 Four and a half [Boy]
 Go, cries the heart
 Great law
 The green door
 Having New England fathers
 Hearing music
 Heart's almanac
 I can hardly wait
 I live in a world
 Incredible greeting
 Journey's end
 The known world [Map of my country]
 The landmark
 Rock in the ground
 Do you know?
 The laws [Order clearly asking]
 Let them stand: for Robert Nichols, geologist
 The letter
 Letter to my mother
 Lines beginning 'I'
 Address to the living
 Along the row
 Anecdote of Robert Frost
 The architects
 As the heart beats
 Birthday: at Richard Eberhart's fiftieth
 Boy in August
 Boy to anyone
 Bucyrus [Booth, Bucyrus & Brazil]
 Business-like letter
 Carry me back
 The flowers (first version) [Home from Woodlawn]
 The certainty
 Edward Hicks's old picture
 Faithful reader
 The new porch
 Two of a kind
 In the Gardner museum
 The war between the states
 Margaret's choice
 Everyone knows about Boston
 Mailman blues
 The mask the living wear
 Memorandum of agreement
 Memory [Memory's color]
 Metaphor for my son
 The mirror
 Montaigne's pate
 Misery [Essay on misery]
 People in the street [At thirty-five]
 Do not pity the young
 West mountain spring [West mountain water]
 The second wonder
 The place he seeks
 The enduring
 New Proverbs
 The new view [Youth and age]
 Noah his ark
 Northward letter [In this moment]
 Nothing told me
 Old men and young men
 One day's rain
 Ordeal by love
 The overgrown back yard
 Panther in my mind [The panther in the mind]
 The people's peace
 Peter at his mirror
 But choose
 The pity is
 The place of light
 Open letter [Christmas letter] [From tonight]
 Pour down
 Puritan ancestor
 Questions for the candidate
 Reading aloud
 The rebellion
 The saving grace
 Seasonal wisdom
 The secret
 Self portrait
 Send, send
 Since you asked
 The skin of your face
 Sleep and poetry
 Sonnet for solace [O heart be quick]
 To the queen's men [Sonnet to the queen's men]
 Spring is the peace
 Summer morning porch (Chautauqua Lake)
 Summer opera
 September valentine
 Better than all [Better than all these]
 Take home this heart
 Then the sun came out
 The new art
 Then he will sleep
 Till music cries again
 To keep and not to keep [These conditions] [What to keep, what to lose]
 To live in
 The tower stands
 To my sisters and my brother [To my teacher]
 Truth about pictures
 Two and a little house
 The unforgiven
 Unlikely tale
 Unpublished preface to a Ph.D. thesis
 Ten-thirty class
 The valiant
 Very young, very old
 The voice
 Poem for my 27th year [For the poet's birthday]
 All except Mary Ann
 The way the stars went up
 Weather making
 What the books do
 Who are they?
 A willing suspension
 Without honor
 The wreath
 Sally [Warning with love]
 One place
 These ghosts
 Mellow and merry
 Living in cities
 Various loyalties
 Arrows and angry snakes
 Old Adam in us
 After two years
 King time
 The secret epilogue [Epilogue untold]
 That is the way you look [Face to face]
 Legend and truth
 From everlasting unto everlasting
 If I were old [The bitter thought]
 The mind by day
 Poets take heart
 You living look [A hundred years from now]
 Two kinds: bold and shy
 The voice
 Hold it up to the light
 Words of my own
 Dialogue alone [Even now]
 A cure of guilt
 The core [One sound]
 Country senses
 Chair in the field
 The broken one
 Between thousand and thousands
 Few in a million
 The fiery element
 The flower
 The folding key
 For sports section of Jumbo Book
 The fortune teller
 From Brooklyn
 Guard of honor
 Hamlet with a license
 Hearing Margaret, aged four
 Her walking
 Holiday, with gods
 I am singing. We are singing.
 I never get any work done
 If not silence, then restraint
 Living music
 Maybe for love [The carver and the wood]
 A lot going on
 The modern poet
 Moment of truth
 Mr. Holmes's brother
 My father's silence
 On a magazine picture of a mass burial
 Out of the room
 The oyster [The oyster as art]
 The pains of poetry
 Photograph of Robert Frost
 Plain girl: Sunday noon
 Portrait [Biography]
 A prayer on the night before Easter [Prayer on the night before Easter]
 Remembering you, long after
 The room
 The secret
 The Somerset Dam for supper
 To my mother
 Dog in the house
 The sickle
 It says in the book
 Poem number three ninety three
 Instead of albums
 The library: capitol of the world
 The Murdock saga
 Incoming mail [I can manage multiplicity]
 The good guys and the bad guys
 The ballad of Albert Woolson
 Poor Johnny roll
 The pipe which I was gave by Santa Claus
 Man as bear
 My old schools
 The thrifty elephant
 Do I not rage?
 For Sam Moses, printer
 Alight on the hill
 Time and my father's cousin
 The poet
 Billingham street [Our street]
 Love poems
 Bird pavilion
 On the twenty second anniversary
 The crisis at Valley Forge, 1931
 Contradictions in an ultimate spring
 Any next year
 To be forty
 Something out there
 Letter to S.V.B. [Stephen Vincent Benet] [Dear Steve]
 Thoughts on beginning another shaving stick
 Group photograph
 Program note [Three P's presents...]
 Goodbye to the campus
 Let the joyful speak [Your kind of joy]
 The fence
 Spring on the Hill
 Letter about weather
 The source
 The praise of poetry
 For Charles Gott [Lament for the dead] [The inconsolable]
 Boy reading
 The old professor
 The rewards of teaching
 Faculty counselor [In the dean's office]
 Teaching program
 In a classroom
 The name
 Somebody's bad luck
 The spiral
 The sword &
 A taste for revenge
 Teacher retired to Maine
 The thought
 Time no time
 To the girls formerly of Sigma Kappa at Tufts University and Cornell University
 To the gurnet
 True murder's course
 King Richard seventh
 The valley
 The wind in the elm trees
 A wish
 The word heart
 World the way it is
 Figure of speech
 For D.H.
 I can never be alone
 In cities
 Young man's poem
 Tireless testament [Testament]
 The chest of time
 Brother to brother, 1859
 The phoenix promise
 At a country fair
 In danger safely
 Aware of legends
 Death in the back yard
 The expectation [Expectations]
 O Lord of stars and sunlight
 Lady is a lady
 The long walk alone [Renewal]
 Odd moment
 The good, the great, the wise
 The secret tide
 The mountain farm
 An old song with a new refrain
 Penny for your thoughts
 Portrait two
 Street scene
 The summer after
 Remembered nights
 Nine o'clock
 Once in August
 The time is good
 The winter
 The apple
 Voices in a new world
 The woman who would not close her eyes
 Green things growing
 Death of a leaf
 Come and play
 He knows it is safe
 Is calm the thing?
 Maybe tomorrow
 Not you like music
 O Time!
 On finding certain lines marked in Santayana's sonnets
 Plainly said
 Prayer for to-morrow
 Sonnet to a friend twice my age
 Things I love
 Wars that rage: sonnet
 The watcher in the street
 Weave a circle round him
 Young promise
 Page in a diary: For Doris to remember the day by
 Pain I gave you
 A penny poem
 Perfectly deathless poem to Betty Rosenthal from John Holmes on receiving a necktie
 Photographer's Sunday
 Plato's table
 Poem for my 32nd birthday
 Poetry [Living for poetry]
 Whatever winds
 Reflection of a shadow
 The responsibilities
 Rhyme of going to the store [Going to the store]
 Shake well, throw away
 Should I?
 Sky once more
 Some in dreams
 Sonnet to a dancing-partner
 Sort of spring song, with ah!
 So you will know
 Spring: a sermon [The double root]
 Spring morning
 Subject for a poem
 Suddenly birds
 Sword on the wall
 Take a lot of people
 The tall men
 The Passing king
 To one I dislike
 A thing to say
 Time's noise
 ...To a desert island
 Against growing old
 Average reader
 Big girl now
 Bumps in the night
 Children try
 Clouds on a summer night
 Country quiet remembered
 Deep shore
 The druids
 At night
 Epitaph for Peter if he should die
 Essay of saints
 An exercise in humility
 Ezra Pound
 The face
 Four friends
 Gathering poem [Your move]
 Golden egg
 Holy Ballou
 Hello Ballou
 Hail Ballou
 The hamlet
 Hearing them speak
 His dazzled look [The look]
 How do I love thee?
 To a friend too kind
 To be tacked on the bulletin board at any writers' conference
 To Isabel with some poems
 Twenty eight Billingham Street
 Two men talking
 Understandable poem
 The visiting poets
 Cal Lowell [The visiting poets]
 We are waiting
 Wherever you lie
 Word from the west
 Words are so exciting
 The young men speaking
 I do it myself [I always did]
 In a dark wood
 A kind of silence
 Ladies and gentlemen ...
 Last night
 Letter to a young poet
 Letters: a metaphor
 A long poem entitled 'I love the Hillside Hardware & Paint Co.'
 First love recalled
 A man who came home late at night
 Music to me
 My pasenger [My passenger]
 My wife's grandfather's ring
 New name
 New woman in the house
 Next year's music
 No more music
 One act play
 One beautiful moment
 The cottage of broken dreams
 Woodrow-Wilson was-a-hero
 Open letter [Maybe you]
 Winter solstice
 Look east, look west
 The weight
 Past understanding
 A station in the journey
 1918: Armistice
 The change
 Historical event
 All the dead and some poets
 The world in my time [The world in my own time]
 Whose name was writ in water
 Slow child
 This time surely
 Portrait: My wife
 The island
 You have an interesting mind
 The world is one
 A man's world
 Child: Spring
 Cook's tour
 A room with books [Room with books]
 Far enough
 Hat weather
 The late Mr. Thorpe
 Looking at books
 A natural law
 First day
 Being young
 Fable with no moral
 Mornings at eleven
 The bookworm turns
 A sweet hope once
 Sweetly solemn thought
 Those were the days
 Table for one
 Work in progress
 The critic on the pan
 Dinner for eight
 The miserable gardener
 Good-night! Good-night!
 Letter to three men
 Political strategy
 To my teachers
 Notes for a history of sleep
 Thinker in bed
 Design for a skyscraper
 Problem father
 Wallpaper poem
 The double life
 Fair warning
 This one is father
 A year after
 Ode for the hundredth birthday of William Upham
 Peter sleeping
 Epitaph for any New Yorker
 Peter reads far into the night
 Letter from an exile
 The blessing
 Nineteen fifty one
 Old cheese and cold beer
 What the book salesman said
 Words enough
 Do you remember
 The hunted
 Tomorrow you
 Ballad of some of the boys
 The talking mirror
 The day's news
 What we hate most
 The snow-child
 For Karl Magnus Armens
 Boy at four
 Hummingbird and seagull
 The extent of his acres
 To remember one another
 All's well that ends
 John Holmes, his book
 The chance
 Lesson in the monkey-house
 The title-page
 Faculty and administration section
 The senior class section
 The activities section
 The organizations section
 The fraternities section
 Ode for scene 1, 'Hullaballou'
 Poetry defined
 On a cage of mice brought home for the week of school vacation
 Nothing odd
 Free will and fire-truck
 Verses in a very old tradition
 The stone
 The spring sun
 The fifty-first
 A prayer
 Evening meal in the twentieth century
 A little night-wording