All Poems
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Dandelions
© Frances Ellen Watkins Harper
Welcome children of the Spring,
In your garbs of green and gold,
Lifting up your sun-crowned heads
On the verdant plain and wold.
A Night-Piece On Death
© Thomas Parnell
Those Graves, with bending Osier bound,
That nameless heave the crumbled Ground,
Quick to the glancing Thought disclose
Where Toil and Poverty repose.
Rogue Elephant
© Archie Randolph Ammons
The reason to be autonomous is to stand there,
a cleared instrument, ready to act, to searchthe moral realm and actual conditions for what
needs to be done and to do it: fine, thebest, if it works out, but if, like a gun, it
comes in handy to the wrong choice, why thenyou see the danger in the effective: better
The Sleeper In The Valley
© Arthur Rimbaud
Its a green hollow where a river sings
Madly catching white tatters in the grass.
Where the sun on the proud mountain rings:
Its a little valley, foaming like light in a glass.
With A Copy Of 'The Rabbi Of Bachwach'
© Heinrich Heine
Burst out in wailing riot,
Thou darkling martyr-lay,
That in my soul, flame-quiet,
I've borne this many a day!
Poetics
© Archie Randolph Ammons
I look for the way
things will turn
out spiralling from a center,
the shape
things will take to come forth in
Mule Song
© Archie Randolph Ammons
Silver will lie where she lies
sun-out, whatever turning the world does,
longeared in her ashen, earless,
floating world:
An Improvisation For Angular Momentum
© Archie Randolph Ammons
Walking is like
imagination, a
single step
dissolves the circle
Sonnet LXVIII.
© Charlotte Turner Smith
Written at Exmouth, Midsummer, 1795.
FALL, dews of Heaven, upon my burning breast,
Bathe with cool drops these ever-streaming eyes,
Ye gentle Winds, that fan the balmy West,
Písne Kosmické (#16)
© Jan Neruda
Mesicek ze vsech sam a sam
okolo nas se toci,
sprovazi Zemi zivotem
a nespousti ji z oci.
The City Limits
© Archie Randolph Ammons
When you consider the radiance, that it does not withhold
itself but pours its abundance without selection into every
nook and cranny not overhung or hidden; when you consider
Thoughts of Phena at the News of Her Death
© Thomas Hardy
Not a line of her writing have I
Not a thread of her hair,
So I Said I Am Ezra
© Archie Randolph Ammons
So I said I am Ezra
and the wind whipped my throat
gaming for the sounds of my voice
I listened to the wind
The Three Copecks
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
CROUCHED low in a sordid chamber,
With a cupboard of empty shelves,
Half starved, and, alas, unable
To comfort or help themselves,
Still
© Archie Randolph Ammons
but though I have looked everywhere,
I can find nothing
to give myself to:
everything is
