All Poems
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Davis Matlock
© Edgar Lee Masters
Suppose it is nothing but the hive:
That there are drones and workers
Carl Hamblin
© Edgar Lee Masters
The press of the Spoon River Clarion was wrecked,
And I was tarred and feathered,
Opening the Moorish Grate
© José Martí
Opening the moorish grate
To lean upon the wet sill,
Pale as the moon, and so still,
A lover ponders his fate.
Once I was sailing for fun (Simple Verses XII)
© José Martí
Once I was sailing for fun
On a lake of great allure,
Like gold the sun shone so pure,
And my soul more than the sun.
A Sincere Man Am I
© José Martí
A sincere man am I
From the land where palm trees grow,
And I want before I die
My soul's verses to bestow.
Eye and Tooth
© Robert Lowell
My whole eye was sunset red,
the old cut cornea throbbed,
I saw things darkly,
as through an unwashed goldfish globe.
Colloquy in Black Rock
© Robert Lowell
Here the jack-hammer jabs into the ocean;
My heart, you race and stagger and demand
More blood-gangs for your nigger-brass percussions,
Till I, the stunned machine of your devotion,
Clanging upon this cymbal of a hand,
Am rattled screw and footloose. All discussions
Inheritance-His
© Audre Lorde
Does an image of return
wealthy and triumphant
warm your chilblained fingers
as you count coins in the Manhattan snow
or is it only Linda
who dreams of home?
The Arrow And The Song
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
I shot an arrow into the air,
It fell to earth, I knew not where;
For, so swiftly it flew, the sight
Could not follow it in its flight.
Song of the Silent Land
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
(Lied: Ins Stille Land)
BY JOHANN GAUDENZ VON SALIS-SEEWIS
Sir Humphrey Gilbert
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Eastward from Campobello
Sir Humphrey Gilbert sailed;
Three days or more seaward he bore,
Then, alas! the land-wind failed.
Resignation
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
THERE is no flock however watched and tended
But one dead lamb is there!
There is no fireside howsoe'er defended
But has one vacant chair!
Paul Revere's Ride
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Listen, my children, and you shall hear
Of the midnight ride of Paul Revere,
On the eighteenth of April, in Seventy-Five:
Hardly a man is now alive
Who remembers that famous day and year.
What the Sexton Said
© Vachel Lindsay
Your dust will be upon the wind
Within some certain years,
Though you be sealed in lead to-day
Amid the country's tears.
The Little Turtle
© Vachel Lindsay
There was a little turtle.
He lived in a box.
He swam in a puddle.
He climbed on the rocks.
The Lion
© Vachel Lindsay
The Lion is a kingly beast.
He likes a Hindu for a feast.
And if no Hindu he can get,
The lion-family is upset.
At Mass
© Vachel Lindsay
No doubt to-morrow I will hide
My face from you, my King.
Let me rejoice this Sunday noon,
And kneel while gray priests sing.
