PolyArchive

Introduction to Collected Poems (1938) E.E. Cummings (wrenched from a geocities site in the depths of the Wayback Machine) I N T R O D U C T I O N The poems to come are for you and for me and are not for mostpeople– it’s no use trying to pretend that mostpeople and […]

The Woman That Had More Babies Than That Wallace Stevens I An acrobat on the border of the sea Observed the waves, the rising and the swell And the first line spreading up the beach; again, The rising and the swell, the preparation And the first line foaming over the sand; again, The rising and […]

Plaint Theodore Roethke Day after somber day I think my neighbors strange; In Hell there is no change. Where’s my eternity Of inward blessedness? I lack plain tenderness. Where is the knowledge that Could lead me to my God? Not on this dusty road Or afternoon of light Diminished by the haze Of late November […]

For all the Russian literature I’ve studied, and the amount of time I devote to Blok, my strongest emotional attachments are to American poets (and the occasional Briton). I know I’ve posted plenty of Roethke here in the past, and truth be told, I should have done an English master’s and written about him. Would […]

The Chilterns Rupert Brooke Your hands, my dear, adorable, Your lips of tenderness – Oh, I’ve loved you faithfully and well, Three years, or a bit less. It wasn’t a success. Thank God, that’s done! and I’ll take the road, Quit of my youth and you, The Roman road to Wendover By Tring and Lilley […]

Ich habe dich nie je so geliebt Bertolt Brecht Ich habe dich nie je so geliebt, ma soeur Als wie ich fortging von dir in jenem Abendrot. Der Wald schluckte mich, der blaue Wald, ma soeur Über dem immer schon die bleichen Gestirne im Westen standen. Ich lachte kein klein wenig, gar nicht, ma soeur […]

Easter, 1916 W. B. Yeats I have met them at close of day Coming with vivid faces From counter or desk among grey Eighteenth-century houses. I have passed with a nod of the head Or polite meaningless words, Or have lingered awhile and said Polite meaningless words, And thought before I had done Of a […]

Kin to Sorrow Edna St. Vincent Millay AM I kin to Sorrow, That so oft Falls the knocker of my door— Neither loud nor soft, But as long accustomed, Under Sorrow’s hand? Marigolds around the step And rosemary stand, And then comes Sorrow— And what does Sorrow care For the rosemary Or the marigolds there? […]

Sonnet VII Edna St. Vincent Millay When I too long have looked upon your face, Wherein for me a brightness unobscured Save by the mists of brightness has its place, And terrible beauty not to be endured, I turn away reluctant from your light, And stand irresolute, a mind undone, A silly, dazzled thing deprived […]

Edna St. Vincent Millay The Courage that My Mother Had The courage that my mother had Went with her, and is with her still: Rock from New England quarried; Now granite in a granite hill. The golden brooch my mother wore She left behind for me to wear; I have no thing I treasure more: […]

Somebody’s Song Dorothy Parker This is what I vow; He shall have my heart to keep, Sweetly will we stir and sleep, All the years, as now. Swift the measured sands may run; Love like this is never done; He and I are welded one: This is what I vow. This is what I pray: […]

Pictures in the Smoke Dorothy Parker Oh, gallant was the first love, and glittering and fine; The second love was water, in a clear white cup; The third love was his, and the fourth was mine; And after that, I always get them all mixed up.   The Portable Dorothy Parker

The Rose is Obsolete William Carlos Williams The rose is obsolete but each petal ends in an edge, the double facet cementing the grooved columns of air–The edge cuts without cutting meets–nothing–renews itself in metal or porcelain– whither? It ends– But if it ends the start is begun so that to engage roses becomes a […]

Hope Oliver Herford (1860-1935) I heard a bird sing In the dark of December A magical thing And sweet to remember. ‘We are nearer to Spring Than we were in September,’ I heard a bird sing In the dark of December.

Chicago Carl Sandburg Hog Butcher for the World, Tool Maker, Stacker of Wheat, Player with Railroads and the Nation’s Freight Handler; Stormy, husky, brawling, City of the Big Shoulders: They tell me you are wicked and I believe them, for I have seen your painted women under the gas lamps luring the farm boys. And […]