All Poems

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No Word

© Sappho

a great deal; she said to
me, ``This parting must be
endured, Sappho. I go unwillingly.''

The Snow Man

© Wallace Stevens

One must have a mind of winter
To regard the frost and the boughs
Of the pine-trees crusted with snow;

Final Soliloquy Of The Interior Paramour

© Wallace Stevens

Light the first light of evening, as in a room
In which we rest and, for small reason, think
The world imagined is the ultimate good.

A Quarrel With Love

© Nicholas Breton

Oh that I could write a story
Of love's dealing with affection!
How he makes the spirit sorry
That is touch'd with his infection.

Domination Of Black

© Wallace Stevens

At night, by the fire,
The colors of the bushes
And of the fallen leaves,
Repeating themselves,

Prologue To A Charade.--"Damn-Ages"

© Horace Smith

In olden time--in great Eliza's age,

When rare Ben Jonson ruled the humorous stage,

Disillusionment Of Ten O'clock

© Wallace Stevens

The houses are haunted
By white night-gowns.
None are green,
Or purple with green rings,

Sonnet XXXVIII: Fair and Lovely Maid

© Samuel Daniel

Fair and lovely maid, look from the shore,

See thy Leander striving in these waves,

The Emperor Of Ice-Cream

© Wallace Stevens

Call the roller of big cigars,
The muscular one, and bid him whip
In kitchen cups concupiscent curds.
Let the wenches dawdle in such dress

Anecdote Of The Jar

© Wallace Stevens

I placed a jar in Tennessee,
And round it was, upon a hill.
It made the slovenly wilderness
Surround that hill.

If We Had Met

© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt

If we had met when leaves were green,
And fate to us less hard had proved,
And naught had been of what has been,
We might have loved as none have loved.

Thirteen Ways Of Looking At A Blackbird

© Wallace Stevens

Among twenty snowy mountains,
The only moving thing
Was the eye of the black bird.

The New Moon

What have you got in your knapsack fair,

White moon, bright moon, pearling the air,

Poem Written At Morning

A sunny day's complete Poussiniana
Divide it from itself. It is this or that
And it is not.
By metaphor you paint

Sonnet 80: "O! how I faint when I of you do write,..."

Hidden

If you place a fern
under a stone
the next day it will be
nearly invisible
as if the stone has
swallowed it.

You can't be, says a Palestinian Christian
on the first feast day after Ramadan.
So, half-and-half and half-and-half.
He sells glass. He knows about broken bits,
chips. If you love Jesus you can't love
anyone else. Says he.