SEE ALL TAGS & MOODS
scurried around a classroom papered with poems.
Even the ceiling, pink and orange quilts of phrase...
they introduced one another, perched on a tiny stage
to read their work, blessed their teacher who
my friends, my sweet barbarians,
there is that hunger which is not for food —
but an eye at the navel turns the appetite
I am Charles Darwin. I eat owlflesh at Cambridge University.
I have discovered something, an entirely new species
with tropical fever in its reptile fingers. I am busy
with taxonomying its most peculiar and three-sided
can go to Bible study every Sunday
and swear she’s still not convinced,
but she likes to be around people who are.
We have the same conversation
every few years — I’ll ask her if she stops
Not the music.
It is this other thing
I keep from all of them
that matters, inviolable.
I scratch in my journals,
a mouse rummaging through cupboards,
Give me a few more hours to pass
With the mellow flower ofthe elm-bough falling,
And then no more than the lonely grass
And the birds calling.
Give me a few more days to keep
If I am judged
If I am punished
If I am dismissed
If I am misunderstood
If I am celebrated
If I am envied
If I am competed with
If I am slandered against
If I am seen
Today doves flew from my head
and my hair grew
the longing is gone from my body
dont worry yr eyes
dont worry yr brain man th snow is
Hidden in wonder and snow, or sudden with summer,
This land stares at the sun in a huge silence
Endlessly repeating something we cannot…
like the beginnings — o odales o adagios — of islands
from under the clouds where I write the first poem
its brown warmth now that we recognize them
Earth has not anything to show more fair:
Dull would he be of soul who could pass by
A sight so touching in its majesty:
I wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o’er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
When, in disgrace with fortune and men’s eyes,
I all alone beweep my outcast state,
And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries,
When I consider everything that grows
Holds in perfection but a little moment,
That this huge stage presenteth nought but shows
Happy the man, whose wish and care
A few paternal acres bound,
Content to breathe his native air,
When I consider how my light is spent,
Ere half my days, in this dark world and wide,
And that one Talent which is death to hide
When Love with unconfinèd wings
Hovers within my Gates,
And my divine Althea brings
Ay, gaze upon her rose-wreathed hair,
And gaze upon her smile;
Seem as you drank the very air
From plains that reel to southward, dim,
The road runs by me white and bare;
Up the steep hill it seems to swim
A thin wet sky, that yellows at the rim,
And meets with sun-lost lip the marsh’s brim.
The pools low lying, dank with moss and mould,
As kingfishers catch fire, dragonflies draw flame;
As tumbled over rim in roundy wells
Stones ring; like each tucked string tells, each hung bell’s
Ay, tear her tattered ensign down!
Long has it waved on high,
And many an eye has danced to see
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
God moves in a mysterious way,
His wonders to perform;
He plants his footsteps in the sea,
Follow thy fair sun, unhappy shadow,
Though thou be black as night
And she made all of light,
For weeks and weeks the autumn world stood still,
Clothed in the shadow of a smoky haze;
The fields were dead, the wind had lost its will,
That’s my last Duchess painted on the wall,
Looking as if she were alive. I call
That piece a wonder, now; Frà Pandolf’s hands
If ever two were one, then surely we.
If ever man were loved by wife, then thee.
If ever wife was happy in a man,
