All Poems
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If It Were Not for You
© Hayden Carruth
The night winds reach
like the blind breath of the world
in a rhythm without mind, gusting and beating
as if to destroy us, battering our poverty
and all the land’s flat and cold and dark
under iron snow
The College Colonel
© Arvind Krishna Mehrotra
He rides at their head;
A crutch by his saddle just slants in view,
Pyrography
© John Ashbery
Out here on Cottage Grove it matters. The galloping
Wind balks at its shadow. The carriages
La Patrie
© Robert Laurence Binyon
Through storm--blown gloom the subtle light persists;
Shapes of tumultuous, ghostly cloud appear,
Trailing a dark shower from hill--drenching mists:
Dawn, desolate in its majesty, is here.
The Farm
© Joyce Sutphen
My father’s farm is an apple blossomer.
He keeps his hills in dandelion carpet
Bottom
© Arthur Rimbaud
Reality being too thorny for my great personality.
--I found myself nevertheless at my lady's,
The Fountain
© Charles Baudelaire
The sheer luminous gown
The fountain wears
Where Phoebe’s very own
Color appears
Falls like a summer rain
Or shawl of tears.
Archaic Fragment
© Louise Gluck
I was trying to love matter.
I taped a sign over the mirror:
You cannot hate matter and love form.
Lament
© Robert Laurence Binyon
Fall now, my cold thoughts, frozen fall
My sad thoughts, over my heart,
To be the tender burial
Of sweetness and of smart.
The Jungfrau To Beth
© Louisa May Alcott
God bless you, dear Queen Bess!
May nothing you dismay,
But health and peace and happiness
Be yours, this Christmas day.
O Carib Isle!
© Hart Crane
And yet suppose
I count these nacreous frames of tropic death,
Brutal necklaces of shells around each grave
Squared off so carefully. Then
A Year and a Day
© Elizabeth Eleanor Siddal
Slow days have passed that make a year,
Slow hours that make a day,
Since I could take my first dear love
And kiss him the old way;
Yet the green leaves touch me on the cheek,
Dear Christ, this month of May.
The Lotos-eaters
© Alfred Tennyson
"Courage!" he said, and pointed toward the land,
"This mounting wave will roll us shoreward soon."
A Walk at Sunset
© William Cullen Bryant
When insect wings are glistening in the beam
Of the low sun, and mountain-tops are bright,
Oh, let me, by the crystal valley-stream,
Wander amid the mild and mellow light;
And while the wood-thrush pipes his evening lay,
Give me one lonely hour to hymn the setting day.
Nineteen-Fourteen: Peace
© Rupert Brooke
Now, God be thanked who has matched us with his hour,
And caught our youth, and wakened us from sleeping!
Sometimes with One I Love
© Walt Whitman
Sometimes with one I love I fill myself with rage for fear I effuse unreturnd love,
But now I think there is no unreturnd love, the pay is certain one way or another
(I loved a certain person ardently and my love was not returnd,
Yet out of that I have written these songs).
