Truth poems
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Love is done when Love's begun,
© Emily Dickinson
Love is done when Love's begun,
Sages say,
But have Sages known?
Truth adjourn your Boon
Without Day.
He preached upon "Breadth" till it argued him narrow --
© Emily Dickinson
He preached upon "Breadth" till it argued him narrow --
The Broad are too broad to define
And of "Truth" until it proclaimed him a Liar --
The Truth never flaunted a Sign --
Fitter to see Him, I may be
© Emily Dickinson
Fitter to see Him, I may be
For the long Hindrance -- Grace -- to Me --
With Summers, and with Winters, grow,
Some passing Year -- A trait bestow
Extol thee -- could I? Then I will
© Emily Dickinson
Extol thee -- could I? Then I will
By saying nothing new --
But just the truest truth
That thou art heavenly.
Consulting summer's clock,
© Emily Dickinson
Consulting summer's clock,
But half the hours remain.
I ascertain it with a shock --
I shall not look again.
A Tongue -- to tell Him I am true!
© Emily Dickinson
A Tongue -- to tell Him I am true!
Its fee -- to be of Gold --
Had Nature -- in Her monstrous House
A single Ragged Child --
A Counterfeit -- a Plated Person --
© Emily Dickinson
A Counterfeit -- a Plated Person --
I would not be --
Whatever strata of Iniquity
My Nature underlie --
'Tis so appalling -- it exhilarates
© Emily Dickinson
'Tis so appalling -- it exhilarates --
So over Horror, it half Captivates --
The Soul stares after it, secure --
A Sepulchre, fears frost, no more --
We dream -- it is good we are dreaming --
© Emily Dickinson
We dream -- it is good we are dreaming --
It would hurt us -- were we awake --
But since it is playing -- kill us,
And we are playing -- shriek --
Tell all the Truth but tell it slant --
© Emily Dickinson
Tell all the Truth but tell it slant --
Success in Circuit lies
Too bright for our infirm Delight
The Truth's superb surprise
I died for Beauty -- but was scarce
© Emily Dickinson
I died for Beauty -- but was scarce
Adjusted in the Tomb
When One who died for Truth, was lain
In an adjoining room --
Hanging Fire
© Audre Lorde
I am fourteen
and my skin has betrayed me
the boy I cannot live without
still sucks his tumb
The Good Man in Hell
© Edwin Muir
If a good man were ever housed in Hell
By needful error of the qualities,
Perhaps to prove the rule or shame the devil,
Or speak the truth only a stranger sees,
Anna Comnena
© Constantine Cavafy
Her soul is dizzy. "And with rivers
of tears," she tells us "I wet
my eyes... Alas for the waves" in her life,
"alas for the revolts." Pain burns her
"to the the bones and the marrow and the cleaving of the soul."
Thermopylae
© Constantine Cavafy
Honor to those who in the life they lead
define and guard a Thermopylae.
Never betraying what is right,
consistent and just in all they do
The Summons
© Ezra Pound
I can not bow to woo thee
With honey words and flower kisses
And the dew of sweet half-truths
Fallen on the grass of old quaint love-tales
Ballad for Gloom
© Ezra Pound
I have loved my God as a child at heart
That seeketh deep bosoms for rest,
I have loved my God as a maid to man
But lo, this thing is best:
Nicotine
© Ezra Pound
Hymn to the Dope
Goddess of the murmuring courts,
Nicotine, my Nicotine,
Houri of the mystic sports,
The Seafarer
© Ezra Pound
(From the early Anglo-Saxon text) May I for my own self song's truth reckon,
Journey's jargon, how I in harsh days
Hardship endured oft.
Bitter breast-cares have I abided,
The Tree
© Ezra Pound
I stood still and was a tree amid the wood,
Knowing the truth of things unseen before;
Of Daphne and the laurel bow
And that god-feasting couple old
