Poems by Richard Wilbur
Museum Piece
... See how she spins! The grace is there, ...
Shame
... In their ratty sheepskins, shying at cracks in the sidewalk) ...
In the Smoking Car
... " "Poor sweet, poor sweet," the bird-hushed glades repeat, ...
Riddle
... Shade lies upon the boughs like snow ...
Advice to a Prophet
... Dispelled, that glass obscured or brokenIn which we have said the rose of our love and the clean ...
A World Without Objects is a Sensible Emptiness
... Turn, O turn From the fine sleights of the sand, from the long empty oven ...
June Light
... As that picked pear you tossed me, and your face ...
The Riddle
... Once and forever rule me off the page,But, thinking I might come to please Him yet, ...
Exeunt
... The field has droned the summer's final mass ...
Worlds
... But Newton, who had grasped all space, was more ...
Parable
... His head was light with pride, his horse's shoesWere heavy, and he headed for the stable ...
Puritans
... Than booming at their midnight crime, which lies ...
In a Churchyard
... This twilight crumbling in the churchyard tree, Those swifts or swallows which do not pertain, ...
The Prisoner of Zenda
... Deborah Kerr.It would be poor behavia ...
March 26, 1974
... R.Frost 100th B'dayThe air was soft, the ground still cold ...
