american

the archivist January 18, 2007

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? […]

the archivist January 18, 2007

Sonnet V Edna St. Vincent Millay IF I should learn, in some quite casual way, That you were gone, not to return again— Read from the back-page of a paper, say, Held by a neighbor in a subway train, How at the corner of this avenue And such a street (so are the papers filled) […]

the archivist January 18, 2007

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 […]

the archivist January 11, 2007

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: […]

the archivist January 11, 2007

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: […]

the archivist January 11, 2007

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 archivist December 4, 2006

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.

the archivist December 3, 2006

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 […]

the archivist November 20, 2006

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 […]

the archivist July 25, 2006

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 archivist July 25, 2006

My Little March Girl Paul Laurence Dunbar Wind-blown and rosy, my little March girl. Hint of the violet’s delicate bloom, Hint of the rose’s pervading perfume! How can the wind help from kissing her face,— Wrapping her round in his stormy embrace? But still serenely she laughs at his rout, She is the victor who […]

the archivist July 19, 2006

A Psalm of Life What the Heart of the Young Man Said to the Psalmist Henry Wadsworth Longfellow TELL me not, in mournful numbers, Life is but an empty dream!— For the soul is dead that slumbers, And things are not what they seem. Life is real! Life is earnest! And the grave is not […]

the archivist June 29, 2006

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.

the archivist June 28, 2006

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, […]

the archivist June 23, 2006

Thunder Road Bruce Springsteen The screen door slams Mary’s dress waves Like a vision she dances across the porch As the radio plays Roy Orbison singing for the lonely Hey that’s me and I want you only Don’t turn me home again I just can’t face myself alone again Don’t run back inside darling you […]