The Boston Athenaeum poem – Amy Lowell poems | Poems and Poetry
Thou dear and well-loved haunt of happy hours, How often in some distant gallery, Gained by a little painful spiral stair, Far from the halls and corridors where throng The crowd of casual readers, have I passed Long, peaceful hours seated on the floor Of some retired nook, all lined with books, Where reverie […]
Off the Turnpike poem – Amy Lowell poems | Poems and Poetry
Good ev’nin’, Mis’ Priest. I jest stepped in to tell you Good-bye. Yes, it’s all over. All my things is packed An’ every last one o’ them boxes Is on Bradley’s team Bein’ hauled over to th’ depot. No, I ain’t goin’ back agin. I’m stoppin’ over to French’s fer to-night, And goin’ down […]
Number 3 on the Docket poem – Amy Lowell poems | Poems and Poetry
The lawyer, are you? Well! I ain’t got nothin’ to say. Nothin’! I told the perlice I hadn’t nothin’. They know’d real well ’twas me. Ther warn’t no supposin’, Ketchin’ me in the woods as they did, An’ me in my house dress. Folks don’t walk miles an’ miles In the drifted snow, With […]
Number 3 on the Docket poem – Amy Lowell poems | Poems and Poetry
The lawyer, are you? Well! I ain’t got nothin’ to say. Nothin’! I told the perlice I hadn’t nothin’. They know’d real well ’twas me. Ther warn’t no supposin’, Ketchin’ me in the woods as they did, An’ me in my house dress. Folks don’t walk miles an’ miles In the drifted snow, With […]
A Roxbury Garden poem – Amy Lowell poems | Poems and Poetry
I Hoops Blue and pink sashes, Criss-cross shoes, Minna and Stella run out into the garden To play at hoop. Up and down the garden-paths they race, In the yellow sunshine, Each with a big round hoop White as a stripped willow-wand. Round and round turn the hoops, Their diamond whiteness cleaving the yellow […]
A Roxbury Garden poem – Amy Lowell poems | Poems and Poetry
I Hoops Blue and pink sashes, Criss-cross shoes, Minna and Stella run out into the garden To play at hoop. Up and down the garden-paths they race, In the yellow sunshine, Each with a big round hoop White as a stripped willow-wand. Round and round turn the hoops, Their diamond whiteness cleaving the yellow […]
Christopher Okigbo – Looking Back at His Short-lived Life and Taking Stock of His Poetic Legacy
[ad_1] Christopher Ifekandu Okigbo one of the earliest Nigerian poets, who within his short lifetime, for he died fighting for the independence of Biafra, established himself as a central figure in the development of modern African poetry,has remained one of the most important African poets to write in English. Generally acknowledged as a master poet […]
Robert Burns: Epistle To James Tennant Of Glenconner:
Epistle To James Tennant Of Glenconner 1789 Type: Epistle Auld comrade dear, and brither sinner, How’s a’ the folk about Glenconner? How do you this blae eastlin wind, That’s like to blaw a body blind? For me, my faculties are frozen, My dearest member nearly dozen’d. I’ve sent you here, by Johnie Simson, Twa […]
Robert Burns: Ballad On The American War:
Ballad On The American War 1784 Type: Song Tune: Killiecrankie. When Guilford good our pilot stood An’ did our hellim thraw, man, Ae night, at tea, began a plea, Within America, man: Then up they gat the maskin-pat, And in the sea did jaw, man; An’ did nae less, in full congress, Than quite […]
Paris
A poem by Alan Seeger (1888-1916) First, London, for its myriads; for its height, Manhattan heaped in towering stalagmite; But Paris for the smoothness of the paths That lead the heart unto the heart’s delight. . . . Fair loiterer on the threshold of those days When there’s no lovelier prize the world displays […]
Scars on Paper by Marilyn Hacker
Scars on Paper by Marilyn Hacker An unwrapped icon, too potent to touch, she freed my breasts from the camp Empire dress. Now one of them’s the shadow of a breast with a lost object’s half-life, with as much life as an anecdotal photograph: me, Kim and Iva, all stripped to the waist, hiking near […]
Attack of the Squash People by Marge Piercy
And thus the people every year in the valley of humid July did sacrifice themselves to the long green phallic god and eat and eat and eat. They’re coming, they’re on us, the long striped gourds, the silky babies, the hairy adolescents, the lumpy vast adults like the trunks of green elephants. Recite fifty zucchini […]
For The Country by Philip Levine
For The Country by Philip Levine THE DREAM This has nothing to do with war or the end of the world. She dreams there are gray starlings on the winter lawn and the buds of next year’s oranges alongside this year’s oranges, and the sun is still up, a watery circle of fire settling into […]
On Friendship by Phillis Wheatley
Let amicitia in her ample reign Extend her notes to a Celestial strain Benevolent far more divinely Bright Amor like me doth triumph at the sight When my thoughts in gratitude imploy Mental Imaginations give me Joy Now let my thoughts in Contemplation steer The Footsteps of the Superlative fair Boston July 15 1769 End […]
On Friendship by Phillis Wheatley
Let amicitia in her ample reign Extend her notes to a Celestial strain Benevolent far more divinely Bright Amor like me doth triumph at the sight When my thoughts in gratitude imploy Mental Imaginations give me Joy Now let my thoughts in Contemplation steer The Footsteps of the Superlative fair Boston July 15 1769 End […]
To a Lady on Her Coming to North-America by Phillis Wheatley
Indulgent muse! my grov’ling mind inspire, And fill my bosom with celestial fire. See from Jamaica’s fervid shore she moves, Like the fair mother of the blooming loves, When from above the Goddess with her hand Fans the soft breeze, and lights upon the land; Thus she on Neptune’s wat’ry realm reclin’d Appear’d, and thus […]
On The Death Of Dr. Samuel Marshall by Phillis Wheatley
THROUGH thickest glooms look back, immortal shade, On that confusion which thy death has made: Or from Olympus’ height look down, and see A Town involv’d in grief bereft of thee. Thy Lucy sees thee mingle with the dead, And rends the graceful tresses from her head, Wild in her woe, with grief unknown opprest […]
An Answer To The Rebus, By The Author Of These Poems by Phillis Wheatley
The poet asks, and Phillis can’t refuse To show th’ obedience of the Infant muse. She knows the Quail of most inviting taste Fed Israel’s army in the dreary waste; And what’s on Britain’s royal standard borne, But the tall, graceful, rampant Unicorn? The Emerald with a vivid verdure glows Among the gems which regal […]
Poets
Poets This growing section contains notes of biographical nature. These are extra brief biographies of poets. These notes are used in the so-called author boxes below the author’s avatar and, when at least partially complete, they will appear as a separate page. [lwptoc] C Crowley, English Aleister Crowley (1875-1947) was an English poet and […]
New Hampshire by Robert Frost
I met a lady from the South who said (You won’t believe she said it, but she said it): “None of my family ever worked, or had A thing to sell.” I don’t suppose the work Much matters. You may work for all of me. I’ve seen the time I’ve had to work myself. The […]
A Fountain, a Bottle, a Donkey’s Ears, and Some Books by Robert Frost
Old Davis owned a solid mica mountain In Dalton that would someday make his fortune. There’d been some Boston people out to see it: And experts said that deep down in the mountain The mica sheets were big as plate-glass windows. He’d like to take me there and show it to me. “I’ll tell you […]
Epistle to James Tennant of Glenconner by Robert Burns
AULD comrade dear, and brither sinner, How’s a’ the folk about Glenconner? How do you this blae eastlin wind, That’s like to blaw a body blind? For me, my faculties are frozen, My dearest member nearly dozen’d. I’ve sent you here, by Johnie Simson, Twa sage philosophers to glimpse on; Smith, wi’ his sympathetic feeling, […]
Ballad on the American War by Robert Burns
WHEN Guilford good our pilot stood An’ did our hellim thraw, man, Ae night, at tea, began a plea, Within America, man: Then up they gat the maskin-pat, And in the sea did jaw, man; An’ did nae less, in full congress, Than quite refuse our law, man. Then thro’ the lakes Montgomery takes, I […]
The Rhyme of the Three Sealers by Rudyard Kipling
Away by the lands of the Japanee Where the paper lanterns glow And the crews of all the shipping drink In the house of Blood Street Joe, At twilight, when the landward breeze Brings up the harbour noise, And ebb of Yokohama Bay Swigs chattering through the buoys, In Cisco’s Dewdrop Dining-Rooms They tell the […]
The Ballad of Fisher’s Boarding-House by Rudyard Kipling
‘T was Fultah Fisher’s boarding-house, Where sailor-men reside, And there were men of all the ports From Mississip to Clyde, And regally they spat and smoked, And fearsomely they lied. They lied about the purple Sea That gave them scanty bread, They lied about the Earth beneath, The Heavens overhead, For they had looked too […]
Memories of West Street and Lepke by Robert Lowell
Memories of West Street and Lepke by Robert Lowell Only teaching on Tuesdays, book-worming in pajamas fresh from the washer each morning, I hog a whole house on Boston’s “hardly passionate Marlborough Street,” where even the man scavenging filth in the back alley trash cans, has two children, a beach wagon, a helpmate, and is […]
Home After Three Months Away by Robert Lowell
Home After Three Months Away by Robert Lowell Gone now the baby’s nurse, a lioness who ruled the roost and made the Mother cry. She used to tie gobbets of porkrind to bowknots of gauze— three months they hung like soggy toast on our eight foot magnolia tree, and helped the English sparrows weather a […]
For the Union Dead by Robert Lowell
For the Union Dead by Robert Lowell “Relinquunt Omnia Servare Rem Publicam.” The old South Boston Aquarium stands in a Sahara of snow now. Its broken windows are boarded. The bronze weathervane cod has lost half its scales. The airy tanks are dry. Once my nose crawled like a snail on the glass; my hand […]
A Winter’s Tale by Sylvia Plath
On Boston Common a red star Gleams, wired to a tall Ulmus Americana. Magi near The domed State House. Old Joseph holds an alpenstock. Two waxen oxen flank the Child. A black sheep leads the shepherds’ flock. Mary looks mild. Angels-more feminine and douce Than models from Bonwit’s or Jay’s, Haloes lustrous as Sirius- Gilt […]
Two Campers In Cloud Country by Sylvia Plath
(Rock Lake, Canada) In this country there is neither measure nor balance To redress the dominance of rocks and woods, The passage, say, of these man-shaming clouds. No gesture of yours or mine could catch their attention, No word make them carry water or fire the kindling Like local trolls in the spell of a […]
Point Shirley by Sylvia Plath
From Water-Tower Hill to the brick prison The shingle booms, bickering under The sea’s collapse. Snowcakes break and welter. This year The gritted wave leaps The seawall and drops onto a bier Of quahog chips, Leaving a salty mash of ice to whiten In my grandmother’s sand yard. She is dead, Whose laundry snapped and […]
Point Shirley by Sylvia Plath
From Water-Tower Hill to the brick prison The shingle booms, bickering under The sea’s collapse. Snowcakes break and welter. This year The gritted wave leaps The seawall and drops onto a bier Of quahog chips, Leaving a salty mash of ice to whiten In my grandmother’s sand yard. She is dead, Whose laundry snapped and […]
The Boston Evening Transcript by T. S. Eliot
THE READERS of the Boston Evening Transcript Sway in the wind like a field of ripe corn. When evening quickens faintly in the street, Wakening the appetites of life in some And to others bringing the Boston Evening Transcript, I mount the steps and ring the bell, turning Wearily, as one would turn to nod […]
Song of the Exposition. by Walt Whitman
1 AFTER all, not to create only, or found only, But to bring, perhaps from afar, what is already founded, To give it our own identity, average, limitless, free; To fill the gross, the torpid bulk with vital religious fire; Not to repel or destroy, so much as accept, fuse, rehabilitate; To obey, as well […]
Sing of the Banner at Day-Break. by Walt Whitman
POET. O A NEW song, a free song, Flapping, flapping, flapping, flapping, by sounds, by voices clearer, By the wind’s voice and that of the drum, By the banner’s voice, and child’s voice, and sea’s voice, and father’s voice, Low on the ground and high in the air, On the ground where father and child […]
Salut au Monde. by Walt Whitman
1 O TAKE my hand, Walt Whitman! Such gliding wonders! such sights and sounds! Such join’d unended links, each hook’d to the next! Each answering all—each sharing the earth with all. What widens within you, Walt Whitman? What waves and soils exuding? What climes? what persons and lands are here? Who are the infants? some […]
American Feuillage. by Walt Whitman
AMERICA always! Always our own feuillage! Always Florida’s green peninsula! Always the priceless delta of Louisiana! Always the cotton-fields of Alabama and Texas! Always California’s golden hills and hollows—and the silver mountains of New Mexico! Always soft-breath’d Cuba! Always the vast slope drain’d by the Southern Sea—inseparable with the slopes drain’d by the Eastern and […]
A Boston Ballad, 1854. by Walt Whitman
TO get betimes in Boston town, I rose this morning early; Here’s a good place at the corner—I must stand and see the show. Clear the way there, Jonathan! Way for the President’s marshal! Way for the government cannon! Way for the Federal foot and dragoons—and the apparitions copiously tumbling. I love to look on […]
Of Him I Love Day and Night. by Walt Whitman
OF him I love day and night, I dream’d I heard he was dead; And I dream’d I went where they had buried him I love—but he was not in that place; And I dream’d I wander’d, searching among burial-places, to find him; And I found that every place was a burial-place; The houses full […]
An Ode in Time of Hesitation by William Vaughn Moody
An Ode in Time of Hesitation by William Vaughn Moody After seeing at Boston the statue of Robert Gould Shaw, killed while storming Fort Wagner, July 18, 1863, at the head of the first enlisted negro regiment, the Fifty-fourth Massachusetts. I Before the solemn bronze Saint Gaudens made To thrill the heedless passer’s heart with […]