Poetry Books
Sort by:
by:
Conrad Aiken
A FOREWORD When the first Miscellany of American Poetry appeared in 1920, innumerable were the questions asked by both readers and reviewers of publishers and contributors alike. The modest note on the jacket appeared to satisfy no one. The volume purported to have no editor, yet a collection without an editor was pronounced preposterous. It was obviously not the organ of a school, yet it did not seem...
more...
I. The Old Woman (A Morality Play) The Old Woman (A Morality Play) Characters: The Woman The House The Doctor The Deacon The Landlady Doctor: There is an old woman Who ought to die— Deacon: And nobody knows But what she's dead— Doctor: The air will be cleaner When she's gone— Deacon: But we dare not bury her Till...
more...
Second Fig Safe upon the solid rock the ugly houses stand: Come and see my shining palace built upon the sand! Recuerdo We were very tired, we were very merry— We had gone back and forth all night on the ferry. It was bare and bright, and smelled like a stable— But we looked into a fire, we leaned across a table, We lay on a hill-top underneath the moon; And the whistles...
more...
PREFACE In March, 1914, a volume appeared entitled "Des Imagistes." It was a collection of the work of various young poets, presented together as a school. This school has been widely discussed by those interested in new movements in the arts, and has already become a household word. Differences of taste and judgment, however, have arisen among the contributors to that book; growing tendencies...
more...
by:
Robert Frost
Into My Own ONE of my wishes is that those dark trees,So old and firm they scarcely show the breeze,Were not, as 'twere, the merest mask of gloom,But stretched away unto the edge of doom.I should not be withheld but that some dayInto their vastness I should steal away,Fearless of ever finding open land,Or highway where the slow wheel pours the sand.I do not see why I should e'er turn back,Or...
more...
PREFACE The candlelight sweeps softly through the room,Filling dim surfaces with golden laughter,Touching with mystery each high hung rafter,Cutting a path of promise through the gloom. Slim little elves dance gently on each taper,Wistful, small ghosts steal out of shroudedcorners—And, like a line of vague enchanted mourners,Great shadows sway like wind-blown sheets of paper. Gently as fingers drawn...
more...
by:
Robert Frost
The Pasture I'M going out to clean the pasture spring;I'll only stop to rake the leaves away(And wait to watch the water clear, I may):I sha'n't be gone long.—You come too.I'm going out to fetch the little calfThat's standing by the mother. It's so young,It totters when she licks it with her tongue.I sha'n't be gone long.—You come too. SOMETHING there is...
more...
MAURINE PART I.I sat and sewed, and sang some tender tune,Oh, beauteous was that morn in early June!Mellow with sunlight, and with blossoms fair:The climbing roseÐÑвâ¬вÐÂtree grew about me there,And checked with shade the sunny porticoWhere, morns like this, I came to read, or sew. I heard the gate click, and a firm quick treadUpon the walk. No need to turn my head;I would...
more...
by:
Evelyn Scott
Bread Poems Lullaby Embarkation of Cythera Christian Luxuries Narrow Flowers Eyes After Youth The Shadow that Walks Alone Bible Truth The Maternal Breast Air for G String Destiny The Red Cross Hectic I-II Isolation Ward The Red Cross Hospital Night Domestic Canticle Spring Song Home Again To a Sick Child Love Song Quarrel My Child The...
more...
The Path to HomeThere's the mother at the doorway, and the children at the gate,And the little parlor windows with the curtains white and straight.There are shaggy asters blooming in the bed that lines the fence,And the simplest of the blossoms seems of mighty consequence.Oh, there isn't any mansion underneath God's starry domeThat can rest a weary pilgrim like the little place called...
more...