Starlight

    Last night I lay in an open field
    And looked at the stars with lips sealed;
    No noise moved the windless air,
    And I looked at the stars with steady stare.

    There were some that glittered and some that shone
    With a soft and equal glow, and one
    That queened it over the sprinkled round,
    Swaying the host with silent sound.

    "Calm things," I thought, "in your cavern blue,
    I will learn and hold and master you;
    I will yoke and scorn you as I can,
    For the pride of my heart is the pride of a man."

    Grass to my cheek in the dewy field,
    I lay quite still with lips sealed,
    And the pride of a man and his rigid gaze
    Stalked like swords on heaven's ways.

    But through a sudden gate there stole
    The Universe and spread in my soul;
    Quick went my breath and quick my heart,
    And I looked at the stars with lips apart.

John Collings Squire, Sir

John Collings Squire, also known as Sir John Squire, was an influential British poet, writer, historian, and influential literary editor of the early 20th century. He is best known for his role as editor of the London Mercury, a powerful literary journal of the time. Squire was a leading figure in the Georgian poetry movement, which sought to return English poetry to its traditional form and diction.

John Collings Squire, Sir

In An Orchard

John Collings Squire, Sir, Simple Poetry

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John Collings Squire, Sir, Simple Poetry

Paradise Lost

John Collings Squire, Sir, Simple Poetry

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John Collings Squire, Sir, Simple Poetry

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Town

    Mostly in a dull rotation
    We bear our loads and eat and drink and sleep.
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    Dimly convinced, poor groping wretches,
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Harlequin

    Moonlit woodland, veils of green,
    Caves of empty dark between;
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    Drooping, that the moonlight charms.
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    Silent....
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Echoes

    There is a far unfading city
    Where bright immortal people are;
    Remote from hollow shame and pity,
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Song

    The heaven is full of the moon's light,
    The earth fades below.
    In this vast empty world of night
    I only know

    Pale-shining trees and moonlit fields,
    The bird's tune,
    And my night-flowering heart that yields
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An Impression Received From A Symphony

    There was a day, when I, if that was I,
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    And as I lay upon a scent-warm bank,
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    And for an hour I knew eternity,
    For one fixed face suspended Time for me.

    O had those eyes in that extreme of bliss
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At Night

    Dark fir-tops foot the moony sky,
    Blue moonlight bars the drive;
    Here at the open window I
    Sit smoking and alive.

    Wind in the branches swells and breaks
    Like ocean on a beach;
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    A thought I cannot reach.

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