Poems begining by M
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Marching by Jim Harrison: American Life in Poetry #51 Ted Kooser, U.S. Poet Laureate 2004-2006
© Ted Kooser
Walt Whitman's poems took in the world through a wide-angle lens, including nearly everything, but most later poets have focused much more narrowly. Here the poet and novelist Jim Harrison nods to Whitman with a sweeping, inclusive poem about the course of life.
Marching
March
© John Payne
MARCH comes at last, the labouring lands to free.
Rude blusterer, with thy cloud-compelling blast,
Miyajima
© Robert Laurence Binyon
All paths lead upward to the sky
In this green isle, which mounts on high
Through slumbrous valleys, veiled in light
From waters dancing blue and bright.
May
© John Payne
THE wild bird carolled all the April night,
Among the leafing limes, as who should say,
Messages
© Francis Thompson
What shall I your true-love tell,
Earth-forsaking maid?
What shall I your true-love tell,
When life's spectre's laid?
Mithridates At Chios
© John Greenleaf Whittier
KNOW'ST thou, O slave-cursed land!
How, when the Chian's cup of guilt
Morning
© John Crowe Ransom
THE skies were jaded, while the famous sun
Slack of his office to confute the fogs
Man
© Peter McArthur
HE marks his shadow in the sun,
His form is fair, his dream is proud;
But shadow, form, and dream are one
And vanish like an empty cloud.
Morning Song
© Sylvia Plath
Love set you going like a fat gold watch.
The midwife slapped your footsoles, and your bald cry
Took its place among the elements.
Music
© William Lisle Bowles
O harmony! thou tenderest nurse of pain,
If that thy note's sweet magic e'er can heal
My Native Land!
© Caroline Norton
WHERE is the minstrel's native land?
Where the flames of light and feeling glow;
Where the flowers are wreathed for beauty's brow;
Where the bounding heart swells strong and high,
With holy hopes which may not die--
There is my native land!
Microcosm
© Edith Nesbit
SHE and I--we kissed and vowed
That should be which could not be;
Just as if mere vows endowed
Love with immortality!
Ah, had vows but kept us true,
As we thought them sure to do!
Monody On The Death Of The Right Hon. R. B. Sheridan
© George Gordon Byron
When the last sunshine of expiring day
In summer's twilight weeps itself away,
My name came from. . . by Emmett Tenorio Melendez: American Life in Poetry #180 Ted Kooser, U.S. Po
© Ted Kooser
What's in a name? All of us have thought at one time or another about our names, perhaps asking why they were given to us, or finding meanings within them. Here Emmett Tenorio Melendez, an eleven-year-old poet from San Antonio, Texas, proudly presents us with his name and its meaning.
My name came from. . .
Magpie
© James Phillip McAuley
The magpie's mood is never surly
every morning, wakening early,
he gargles music in his throat,
the liquid squabble of his throat.
Mother And Child
© Robert Laurence Binyon
By old blanched fibres of gaunt ivy bound,
The hollow crag towers under noon's blue height.
Ribbed ledges, lizard--haunted crannies white,
Cushioned with stone--crop and with moss embrowned,
Molly Maguire at Monmouth
© William Taylor Collins
On the bloody field of Monmouth
Flashed the guns of Greene and Wayne.
May-Day Ode
© William Makepeace Thackeray
But yesterday a naked sod
The dandies sneered from Rotten Row,
