All Poems

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Alf’s Eleventh Bit

© Ezra Pound

My great press cleaves the guts of men,
My great noise drowns their cries,
My sales beat all the other ten,
Because I print most lies.

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The Cowboy

© James Tate

  Someone had spread an elaborate rumor about me, that I was

in possession of an extraterrestrial being, and I thought I knew who

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Tone's Grave

© Thomas Osborne Davis

In Bodenstown Churchyard there is a green grave,
And wildly along it the winter winds rave;
Small shelter, I ween, are the ruined walls there,
When the storm sweeps down on the plains of Kildare.

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Driving through Minnesota During the Hanoi Bombings

© Robert Bly

We drive between lakes just turning green; 

Late June. The white turkeys have been moved 

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Between the Wars

© Robert Hass

When I ran, it rained. Late in the afternoon—

midsummer, upstate New York, mornings I wrote,

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Metropolitan

© John Fuller

In cities there are tangerine briefcases on the down-platform 
and jet parkas on the up-platform; in the mother of cities 
there is equal anxiety at all terminals.
  West a business breast, North a morose jig, East a false 

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Caroline Chisholm

© Henry Kendall

THE PRIESTS and the Levites went forth, to feast at the courts of the Kings;
They were vain of their greatness and worth, and gladdened with glittering things;
They were fair in the favour of gold, and they walked on, with delicate feet,
Where, famished and faint with the cold, the women fell down in the street.

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(“Leave off your works, bride...”)

© Anselm Hollo

Leave off your works, bride. Listen, the guest has come.
Do you hear, he is gently shaking the fastening chain of the door?
Let not your anklets be loud, and your steps be too hurried to meet him.
Leave off your works, bride, the guest has come, in the evening.

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The Noble Nature

© Benjamin Jonson

It is not growing like a tree
in bulk, doth make Man better be;
or standing long an oak three hundred year,
to fall a log at last, dry, bald, and sere;

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The Hold-fast

© George Herbert



I threaten'd to observe the strict decree

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Sonnet LXXI: No Longer Mourn for me when I am Dead

© William Shakespeare

No longer mourn for me when I am dead


Than you shall hear the surly sudden bell

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Liberation

© Sri Aurobindo

I have thrown from me the whirling dance of mind
And stand now in the spirit's silence free,
Timeless and deathless beyond creature-kind,
The centre of my own eternity.

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For Love

© Robert Creeley

for Bobbie
Yesterday I wanted to
speak of it, that sense above 
the others to me
important because all

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The Beautiful Changes

© Lola Ridge

One wading a Fall meadow finds on all sides 
The Queen Anne’s Lace lying like lilies
On water; it glides
So from the walker, it turns
Dry grass to a lake, as the slightest shade of you 
Valleys my mind in fabulous blue Lucernes.

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The Pariah - The Pariah's Thanks

© Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

MIGHTY Brama, now I'll bless thee!

'Tis from thee that worlds proceed!

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from The Bridge: Southern Cross

© Hart Crane

Whatever call—falls vainly on the wave.
O simian Venus, homeless Eve,
Unwedded, stumbling gardenless to grieve
Windswept guitars on lonely decks forever;
Finally to answer all within one grave!

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To Roumania

© Henry Lawson

Rifles of the Rear Guard,
Rattling through the rain,
Falling back and falling back
To make a stand again –
Rifles of the Rear Guard,
Shall you die in vain?

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Openin’ Night

© Sheldon Allan Silverstein

She had the jitters

She had the flu

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Love and Death

© Lord Byron

I watched thee when the foe was at our side,
 Ready to strike at him—or thee and me,
Were safety hopeless—rather than divide
 Aught with one loved save love and liberty.

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Ghoul Care

© Ralph Hodgson

Sour fiend, go home and tell the Pit

For once you met your master, -