PolyArchive

William Carlos Williams from: SPRING AND ALL (1923) ——————————————————————————– The rose is obsolete but each petal ends in an edge, the double facet cementing the grooved columns of air–The edge cuts without cutting meets–nothing–renews itself in metal or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 […]

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 […]

Renascence Edna St. Vincent Millay All I could see from where I stood Was three long mountains and a wood; I turned and looked the other way, And saw three islands in a bay. So with my eyes I traced the line Of the horizon, thin and fine, Straight around till I was come Back […]

when serpents bargain e.e. cummings when serpents bargain for the right to squirm and the sun strikes to gain a living wage– when thorns regard their roses with alarm and rainbows are insured against old age when every thrush may sing no new moon in if all screech-owls have not okayed his voice –and any […]

The Soldier Rupert Brooke If I should die, think only this of me: That there’s some corner of a foreign field That is forever England.  There shall be In that rich earth a richer dust concealed; A dust whom England bore, shaped, made aware, Gave, once, her flowers to love, her ways to roam. A […]

THE UNKNOWN CITIZEN (To JS/07/M/378 This Marble Monument Is Erected by the State) W.H. Auden He was found by the Bureau of Statistics to be One against whom there was no official complaint, And all the reports of his conduct agree That, in the modern sense of an old-fashioned term, he was a saint, For […]

I recite this to myself, every time I am on an airplane. AN IRISH AIRMAN FORESEES HIS DEATH W. B. Yeats I know that I shall meet my fate Somewhere among the clouds above; Those that I fight I do not hate, Those that I guard I do not love; My country is Kiltartan Cross, […]

Night Sara Teasdale Stars over snow And in the west a planet Swinging below a star– Look for a lovely thing and you will find it, It is not far– It will never be far.

LIFE’S TRAGEDY Paul Laurence Dunbar It may be misery not to sing at all And to go silent through the brimming day. It may be sorrow never to be loved, But deeper griefs than these beset the way. To have come near to sing the perfect song And only by a half-tone lost the key, […]

Okay, so posting lyrics ventures dangerously close to Livejournal/Xanga/AIM profile territory. But this song gets me right here *Celine Dion-style chest-thunk* every time. Which to me is a sign of good poetry. Thunder Road Bruce Springsteen The screen door slams Mary’s dress waves Like a vision she dances across the porch As the radio plays […]

Prospective Immigrants Please Note Adrienne Rich Either you will go through this door or you will not go through. If you go through there is always the risk of remembering your name. Things look at you doubly and you must look back and let them happen. If you do not go through it is possible […]

Acquainted with the Night Robert Frost I have been one acquainted with the night. I have walked out in rain–and back in rain. I have outwalked the furthest city light. I have looked down the saddest city lane. I have passed by the watchman on his beat And dropped my eyes, unwilling to explain. I […]

e. e. cummings yours is the music for no instrument yours the preposterous colour unbeheld –mine the unbought contemptuous intent till this our flesh merely shall be excelled by speaking flower (if I have made songs it does not greatly matter to the sun, nor will rain care cautiously who prolongs unserious twilight) shadows have […]

The Ball Poem John Berryman What is the boy now, who has lost his ball, What, what is he to do? I saw it go Merrily bouncing, down the street, and then Merrily over–there it is in the water! No use to say ‘O there are other balls’: An ultimate shaking grief fixes the boy […]