The World-Soul by Ralph Waldo Emerson Thanks to the morning light, Thanks to the foaming sea, To the uplands of New Hampshire, To the green-haired forest free; Thanks to each man of courage, To the maids of holy mind, To the boy with his games undaunted Who never looks behind. Cities of proud hotels, Houses…
Poems in History
Letter I by B. L. Goss
Letter I by B. L. Goss Last I checked there were no saints in this shabby hole of a beachtown hideout just us, only us trying our damndest to get somewhere like heaven and slipping into the temporary bliss of biology in stead. Breathe deep, those stars are calling. I believe they’re coming closer and…
DESIGN by Robert Frost
Design by Robert Frost I found a dimpled spider, fat and white, On a white heal-all, holding up a moth Like a white piece of rigid satin cloth? Assorted characters of death and blight Mixed ready to begin the morning right, Like the ingredients of a witches’ broth? A snow-drop spider, a flower like froth,…
A SONNET by Henry Howard The Earl of Surrey
A SONNET Description and Praise of his Love Geraldine. From Tuscan’ came my lady’s worthy race; Fair Florence was some time their ancient seat; The western isle, whose pleasant shore doth face Wild Camber’s cliffs, did give her lively heat: Fostered she was with milk of Irish breast; Her sire an earl; her dame of…
THE YOUNG MAN’S SONG W. B. Yeats
THE YOUNG MAN’S SONG I whispered, “I am too young,” And then, “I am old enough”; Wherefore I threw a penny To find out if I might love. “Go and love, go and love, young man, If the lady be young and fair,” Ah, penny, brown penny, brown penny, I am looped in the loops…
Those Who Love by Sara Teasdale
Those Who Love by Sara Teasdale Those who love the most Do not talk of their love; Francesca, Guenevere, Dierdre, Iseult, Heloise In the fragrant gardens of heaven Are silent, or speak, if at all, Of fragile, inconsequent things. And a woman I used to know Who loved one man from her youth, Against the…
Old Poets by Joyce Kilmer
Old Poets If I should live in a forest And sleep underneath a tree, No grove of impudent saplings Would make a home for me. I’d go where the old oaks gather, Serene and good and strong, And they would not sigh and tremble And vex me with a song. The pleasantest sort of poet…
The Tempest by James T. Fields
The Tempest We were crowded in the cabin, Not a soul would dare to sleep, It was midnight on the waters, And a storm was on the deep. ‘Tis a fearful thing in winter To be shattered in the blast, And to hear the rattling trumpet Thunder, “Cut away the mast!” So we shuddered there…
THE WORLD’S WAY by William Shakespeare
William Shakespeare was born at Stratford-on-Avon in April, 1564, and died there April 23, 1616. His fame rests chiefly upon his dramatic compositions. His two narrative poems, “Venus