Everand Logo

Welcome to Everand!

  • Discover millions of ebooks, audiobooks, and so much more with a free trial

    Only $11.99/month after trial. Cancel anytime.

    Halloween, a Romaunt; with Lays Meditative and Devotional
    Halloween, a Romaunt; with Lays Meditative and Devotional
    Halloween, a Romaunt; with Lays Meditative and Devotional
    Ebook193 pages1 hour

    Halloween, a Romaunt; with Lays Meditative and Devotional

    By A. Cleveland Coxe

    ()

    Read preview

    About this ebook

    "Halloween, a Romaunt; with Lays Meditative and Devotional" is a collection of poems written by A. Cleveland Coxe. The book includes a lengthy poem about Halloween, exploring the spooky traditions and folklore associated with the holiday. In addition, the collection includes other poems that are both meditative and devotional in nature, focusing on themes such as faith, love, and nature.
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherGood Press
    Release dateDec 6, 2019
    ISBN4064066231781
    Halloween, a Romaunt; with Lays Meditative and Devotional

    Read more from A. Cleveland Coxe

    Related to Halloween, a Romaunt; with Lays Meditative and Devotional

    Related ebooks

    Classics For You

    View More
    View More

    Related podcast episodes

    Related articles

    • Article

      Five Poems

      May 1, 2023

      Let’s be GodFor a moment, Shall we?That which invites Composition,That which is suspended From a great height,The presence Of approximationHeavy in the meadows, I’m not afraid,And yet My shroud vanishesIn these lines, I am so weptPast weeping, And wh

      1 min read

    • Article

      Four Poems

      Nov 1, 2019

      Four Poems
      7 min read

    • Article

      Bard In The Woods

      Nov 30, 2020

      Bard In The Woods
      4 min read

    • Article

      Must-Read Poetry: November 2020

      Nov 5, 2020

      Stop obsessively refreshing the New York Times's elections page, and check out these new books of poetry by Alice Quinn, Margaret Atwood, Yi Lei, Karina Borowicz, Valzhyna Mort, and Paul Celan. The post Must-Read Poetry: November 2020 appeared first

      6 min read

    • Article

      Flood The World With Beauty

      Nov 1, 2019

      A big literary conference is probably not the best place for a poet dealing with a mental breakdown. But there I was at AWP, skittishly perusing tables at the book fair, under the garish lights of the Minneapolis Convention Center. For two years, par

      8 min read

    • Article

      Commonplace Book

      Mar 2, 2020

      The pawn is the soul of chess. —François-André Danican Philidor, Analysis of the Game of Chess, 1749 But only when I am wrapped, naked, by these soft spring clouds of evening steam, as now, do I feel I could well become someone from a past age. The

      4 min read

    • Article

      Meet Your New Favorite Poet

      Feb 20, 2019

      Meet Your New Favorite Poet
      6 min read

    • Article

      Four Poems by Eavan Boland

      May 1, 2020

      Four Poems by Eavan Boland
      3 min read

    • Article

      The Song Starts In My Body

      Nov 1, 2022

      I wanted to see her body. I’m aware it sounds strange, even lurid. What I wanted was to see her read her poetry, and her body reading it. Something about Rukeyser’s writing made me feel that she was at home in her flesh, and I wanted to see her lovin

      21 min read

    • Article

      from BLACK PASTORAL

      Nov 1, 2023

      somewheres, some lifetimes ago I have run so far, so long.There is nowhere I haven’t beenBut here, in this field, a bodyLength from the ragged brinkThat gives way to forest.I collapsed here, the thin, hard slipOf me whittled at both ends.I want badly

      4 min read

    • Article

      Must-Read Poetry: October 2017

      Oct 3, 2017

      Poetry is malleable and moving; a form that will never tire of importance. The post Must-Read Poetry: October 2017 appeared first on The Millions.

      6 min read

    • Article

      TELL ME A Story

      Mar 31, 2023

      TELL ME A Story
      21 min read

    • Article

      Six Poems

      Jul 1, 2018

      When I said, to my mother, What was a goodthing about me as a child?, my mother’sface seemed to unfurl from the center,hibiscus in fast motion, the anthersand flounces springing out with joy. Oh you wereenchanting, she breathed. What do you mean—craz

      5 min read

    • Article

      Until The Sea Closed Over Us And The Light Was Gone

      Jul 1, 2020

      —Dante, Canto XXVI But if the truth is dreamed of toward the morning—El Paso Although it was really last summer’s song,all this summer Despacito played on as slower then I turned myself to gazeupon Juarez. The summer everything hurts my eyes, a dozen

      6 min read

    • Article

      If I Had a Sense of Beauty

      Dec 5, 2017

      If I Had a Sense of Beauty
      14 min read

    • Article

      The Bird That Sang I Am

      Sep 1, 2021

      The Bird That Sang I Am
      19 min read

    • Article

      In The Spotlight:your Writing Dark Side

      Dec 7, 2023

      Spooky season evidently offered creative inspiration aplenty for the WM writers, who responded to the call for writing in November’s crime-themed issue on the theme of ‘Dark Side’ with our fullest mailbox yet. The poetry and prose sent in demonstrate

      4 min read

    • Article

      Two Poems by Phillip B. Williams

      Dec 15, 2017

      The masters are yet dead. Wanting to be human,I tried to rewrite The Waste Land. The canon’s reachcasts ruinous light. The masters’ pens breachthis page where, above, my own hand spectates. Babylonrisen, exorcism in reverse, whose nature upended now?

      6 min read

    • Article

      Death’s Footsteps

      Nov 29, 2017

      Death’s Footsteps
      5 min read

    • Article

      Five Poems

      Nov 1, 2020

      The American linden sways nonplussed by the storm,a bounce here, a shimmy there, just shaking like musicleft over from the night’s end wafting into the avenues before sleep.I remember once walking down Clinton Street, and singingthat line returning,

      4 min read

    • Article

      Three Poems by Geoffrey Hill

      Dec 15, 2018

      62. Why such irony in re the mystical context when a graph of even the most commonplace exchange would appear perplexed; when we drop out from the plainest statement in the posture of a bat? So, decide to make something of that, the style to resemble

      2 min read

    • Article

      Must-Read Poetry: March 2021

      Mar 4, 2021

      Our own Nick Ripatrazone takes a look at six new poetry titles from the likes of Adrienne Su, Dennis James Sweeney, and Karen Fish. The post Must-Read Poetry: March 2021 appeared first on The Millions.

      6 min read

    • Article

      FLICKERS APR Books

      Sep 1, 2019

      FLICKERS APR Books
      16 min read

    Related categories

    Reviews for Halloween, a Romaunt; with Lays Meditative and Devotional

    0 ratings

    0 ratings0 reviews

    What did you think?

    Tap to rate

    Review must be at least 10 words

      Book preview

      Halloween, a Romaunt; with Lays Meditative and Devotional - A. Cleveland Coxe

      A. Cleveland Coxe

      Halloween, a Romaunt; with Lays Meditative and Devotional

      Published by Good Press, 2022

      goodpress@okpublishing.info

      EAN 4064066231781

      Table of Contents

      PREFACE.

      HALLOWEEN.

      LAYS, MEDITATIVE AND DEVOTIONAL.

      PREFACE.

      LAYS.

      GIVE ME THE HOUR.

      HYMN OF THE WREATH.

      STAR THAT HAST.

      STANZAS.

      CANZONET.

      THOU ART GONE TO THE LAND.

      SONG.

      CANZONET.

      CAUTION.

      OH WHERE’S THE HOPE.

      CANZONET.

      I’VE LEFT THE GIDDY THRONG.

      MARCH.

      LAKE BYROM,

      STANZAS.

      LAMENT.

      THE ZENAIDA DOVE.

      REMEMBER.

      CHRISTMAS.

      OH WOULD I WERE HAPPY.

      THE MIRAGE.

      MEDITATION.

      LINES.

      HYMN.

      HYMN.

      HOME MUSIC.

      TO ALL THAT’S GLORIOUS AND BRIGHT.

      THERE IS A LAND.

      THE HEART’S SONG.

      LAMENT.

      IN RADIANCE HE CAME.

      LAMENT OF THE VIRGINS.

      THE LAST PLAGUE OF EGYPT.

      HYMN TO THE REDEEMER.

      STANZAS.

      STANZAS.

      BUT THOU OH LORD.

      VERSES.

      STILL AS OUR DAY.

      THERE’S NOT A CLOUD.

      OH WALK WITH GOD.

      THE LAND OF BEULAH.

      HYMN IN HOLY WEEK.

      HYMN.

      MARINER’S HYMN.

      LITTLE HYMN.

      THY GLORY, LORD.

      HYMN FOR THE DEAD.

      THE FIRST PSALM.

      OUR GOD IN GLORY.

      WHEN ISRAEL FROM THE LAND OF NILE.

      RIGHT GLAD WAS I.

      ORISONS.

      ADVENT HYMN.

      NOT UNTO US.

      THEE, GOD, WE PRAISE.

      A LENT HYMN.

      STANZAS FOR EASTERTIDE.

      HYMN FOR HOLY THURSDAY.

      HYMN FOR TRINITY SUNDAY.

      LET OUT THY SOUL.

      WATCHWORDS.

      HOLY ORDERS.

      PREFACE.

      Table of Contents

      Halloween has been printed, though never published before. In the winter of 1842 I had a private edition, of fifty copies, struck off for my friends. These have been freely loaned and circulated, till the book has been enquired for by strangers, at my bookseller’s; and at his instance, I now allow it to appear. Though I had not intended this, and for many private reasons rather disliked the idea of making it public; I suppose, on the whole, that it will be better to publish it now, than in after life, and to edit it myself, than to leave it to a survivor.

      A curious incident suggested this little poem. It was written when I was but twenty. The same theme would now inspire a very different strain; and I can approve it only as a true exhibition of the manifold emotions at work, in a mind disposed to be religious, at that period of life when the world entices most, and character is yet fervid and unstamped. I am willing to make it public, therefore, if the gentle few, who have heretofore been my public, will vouchsafe to consider it only in reference to its place, between the trifles I have written before and after it. In its proper position I think its effect will be happy; for it is a favorite habit of mine to regard all that an author publishes, as his only complete work; in which, if he be a poet, the several parts will bear but the proportion of a stanza or a canto. I think this is an ennobling view to take of any writer; but a profitable one especially, where authors have written much, and ventured often before the world, while their opinions were in a state of progress and transition. By such a rule, I hope my own friends will judge whatever I have already, or may hereafter, put forth. I should be sorry if Politiano’s experience were not always mine, with regard to all I have yet published:

      Dum relego scripsisse pudet; quia plurima cerno,

      Me quoque, qui feci, judice, digna lini.

      A. C. C.

      St. John’s Rectory, Hartford,

      May, 1844.

      HALLOWEEN.

      Table of Contents

      TO A LADY.

      I.

      If souls, once more, to these their haunts on earth,

      Can come, dear Lady, from the Spirit-land,

      I ask’d thee,—would it spoil thine hour of mirth,

      To see some sudden shape before thee stand!

      And a cold shudder told me, and thine hand

      Press’d dearer to mine own. But then said I,

      Oh! if thy friend were dead, and could command

      Some midnight hour to visit thee; reply,

      Say, would it grieve thee, Love, if love could never die!

      II.

      I have been roaming in that Spirit-world,

      And still my deathless love return’d to thee:

      And still thy brow, thy locks in lustre curl’d,

      And thy dear eye of beauty shone on me:

      And thou, my guardian angel, changelessly,

      Though all abandon’d, still wouldst leave me not!

      And then I thought, if e’er an hour should be,

      When my poor soul might leave that rayless spot,

      Thee would my spirit seek, forgetless, unforgot.

      III.

      Fear not, dear Lady, if my voice to thee,

      Sounds then thus sadly, from the Spirit-land;

      The dream is o’er that then unhearted me,

      And I in living shape before thee stand.

      But take my story in thy lily hand,

      And in some hour when sadness were not sad,

      Let these loose numbers by thine eye be scann’d.

      Learn what deep sorrows in my heart I had,

      When I was far from thee, and all that’s bright and glad.

      ————————————————

      ὰθανάτας ὶδεας ὲπιδώμεθα

      τηλεσκόπῳ ὄμματι γαῖαν.

      Aristophanes. Clouds. 286.

      ————————————————

      I.

      I have been near the gates of death,

      And thought I passed them thro’;

      Ev’n now my spirit quivereth,

      To think of where it flew!

      Oh it was hard to yield my breath;

      ’Twas hard to breathe anew;

      It was hard to come to life again,

      And Earth once more to view!

      To wake, and find ’twas all in vain,

      The death-pang and adieu!

      II.

      Many there be who die in throes,

      And groans, and fearful anguish:

      And there be those, who waste in woes;

      And many there be who languish;

      But few there be, who die like me,

      Then wake again to sorrow;

      Who strive with death, and feel them free,

      But are bound again to-morrow;

      Who wrestle through all its agony,

      And strive no more in its chains to be,

      But are born again to misery,

      In the dying years they borrow.

      III.

      I have been near the gates of death,

      And know ’tis hard to die;

      That the mortal flesh it shuddereth

      In the spell of death to lie:

      That fearful it is—the ebbing breath;

      And awful—the closing eye,

      When powerless all, it curtaineth

      The soul, from its loved ones by;

      When it closeth slow o’er the leaden gaze,

      That wraps, like the mariner’s home, in a haze,

      The dear ones that comfort us nigh.

      IV.

      ’Tis awful,—the hour when death comes on,

      When the voice of cheer or wail is gone;

      To feel the lip o’er the dry tooth ope,

      To catch half a ray through the eyelid’s scope,

      Then shudder, though powerless all, to feel

      The frost o’er the glazing orbs congeal,

      When the breath grows low, and the heart is chill,

      Though the blood creeps ghostlike around it still,

      And to gasp a moment, and struggle, and try

      To yield the starved spirit,—and groan,—and die,

      And still to flicker a dying hour,

      When life still hovers, and seems to lower,

      Though voice hath no spell, and the pulse no power!

      V.

      I tell ye the story this chill Halloween,

      For it suiteth the Spirit-eve;

      But

      Enjoying the preview?
      Page 1 of 1