All Poems
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Bustle in a house
© Emily Dickinson
The bustle in a house
The morning after death
Is solemnest of industries
Enacted upon earth,-
Flaviuss Girl: to Flavius
© Gaius Valerius Catullus
Flavius, unless your delights
were tasteless and inelegant,
Hope
© Joseph Rodman Drake
SEE through yon cloud that rolls in wrath,
One little star benignant peep,
To light along their trackless path
The wanderers of the stormy deep.
Sonnet XLIII
© George Santayana
For once, methinks, before the angels fell,
Thou, too, did follow the celestial seven
Threading in file the meads of asphodel.
And when thou comes here, lady, where I dwell,
The place is flooded with the light of heaven
And a lost music I remember well.
Two Views Of Withens
© Sylvia Plath
Above whorled, spindling gorse,
Sheepfoot-flattened grasses,
Stone wall and ridgepole rise
Prow-like through blurs
Of fog in that hinterland few
Hikers get to:
Dream Song 19
© John Berryman
Here, whence
all have departed orwill do, here airless, where
that witchy ball
wanted, fought toward, dreamed of, all a green living
drops limply into one's hands
without pleasure or interest
Spring Offensive [unfinished]
© Wilfred Owen
Halted against the shade of a last hill,
They fed, and lying easy, were at ease
And, finding comfortable chests and knees,
Carelessly slept. But many there stood still
To face the stark blank sky beyond the ridge,
Knowing their feet had come to the end of the world.
Application For A Grant
© Anthony Evan Hecht
Noble executors of the munificent testament
Of the late John Simon Guggenheim, distinguished bunch
Bion
© Andrew Lang
And dirge to dirge that answers, and the weeping
For Adonais by the summer sea,
The plaints for Lycidas, and Thyrsis (sleeping
Far from 'the forest ground called Thessaly'),
These hold thy memory, Bion, in their keeping,
And are but echoes of the moan for thee.
On The Lady Manchester
© Joseph Addison
While haughty Gallia's dames, that pread
O'er their pale cheeks, an artful red,
Beheld this beauteous stranger there
In native charms, divinely fair;
Confusion in their looks they show'd;
And with unborrow'd blushes glow'd.
The Grate Fire
© Edgar Albert Guest
I'm sorry for a fellow if he cannot look and see
In a grate fire's friendly flaming all the joys which used to be.
Sonnet I The Nightingale
© Cornelius Webb
Not farther than a fledgling's weak first flight,
In a low dell, standeth an antique grove;
At the Mermaid Caffeteria
© Christopher Morley
TRUTH is enough for prose:
Calmly it goes
To tell just what it knows.
Lines Written At Norwich On The First News Of Peace
© Amelia Opie
What means that wild and joyful cry?
Why do yon crowds in mean attire
Throw thus their ragged arms on high?
In want what can such joy inspire?
Somebody Else's Baby by Mary Jo Salter: American Life in Poetry #97 Ted Kooser, U.S. Poet Laureate 2
© Ted Kooser
Though parents know that their children will grow up and away from them, will love and be loved by others, it's a difficult thing to accept. Massachusetts poet Mary Jo Salter emphasizes the poignancy of the parent/child relationship in this perceptive and compelling poem.
Somebody Else's Baby
From now on they always are, for years now
they always have been, but from now on you know
they are, they always will be,
Cutty Sark
© Hart Crane
in the nickel-in-the-slot piano jogged
Stamboul Nightsweaving somebodys nickelsang
The Question
© Dora Sigerson Shorter
Now here is where I fail to understand,
And put my question in all reverence,
On bended knee with head most lowly bent,
To the All-High, All-Knowing Providence.
