Great poems
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Blueberries
© Robert Frost
"You ought to have seen what I saw on my way
To the village, through Mortenson's pasture to-day:
Blueberries as big as the end of your thumb,
Real sky-blue, and heavy, and ready to drum
Even-Song
© Oliver Wendell Holmes
IT may be, yes, it must be, Time that brings
An end to mortal things,
A Servant to Servants
© Robert Frost
I didn't make you know how glad I was
To have you come and camp here on our land.
I promised myself to get down some day
And see the way you lived, but I don't know!
The Mountains of Mourne
© William Percy French
Oh, Mary, this London's a wonderful sight
With people here working by day and by night
The Suburban Classes
© Stevie Smith
There is far too much of the suburban classes
Spiritually not geographically speaking. Theyre asses.
The Garden Of The Sea.
© Arthur Henry Adams
THE infinite garden of the sea is His
To play in. Gravely smiling He resigns
To man his choice this rugged plot of earth,
Watches man tear it with his deep canals,
Songs of the Voices of Birds: A Poet in his Youth, and the Cuckoo-Bird
© Jean Ingelow
“O, I hear thee in the blue;
Would that I might wing it too!
O to have what hope hath seen!
O to be what might have been!
The Sacrifice Of Iphigenia
© Aeschylus
Now long and long from wintry Strymon blew
The weary, hungry, anchor-straining blasts,
Devotion
© Robert Frost
The heart can think of no devotion
Greater than being shore to the ocean--
Holding the curve of one position,
Counting an endless repetition.
Canis Major
© Robert Frost
The great Overdog
That heavenly beast
With a star in one eye
Gives a leap in the east.
Two Look at Two
© Robert Frost
Love and forgetting might have carried them
A little further up the mountain side
With night so near, but not much further up.
They must have halted soon in any case
One Step Backward Taken
© Robert Frost
Not only sands and gravels
Were once more on their travels,
But gulping muddy gallons
Great boulders off their balance
Provide, Provide
© Robert Frost
The witch that came (the withered hag)
To wash the steps with pail and rag,
Was once the beauty Abishag,
What We Need by Jo McDougall: American Life in Poetry #55 Ted Kooser, U.S. Poet Laureate 2004-2006
© Ted Kooser
A circus is an assemblage of illusions, and here Jo McDougall, a Kansas poet, shows us a couple of performers, drab and weary in their ordinary lives, away from the lights at the center of the ring.
What We Need
The Silence
© Emile Verhaeren
Ever since ending of the summer weather.
When last the thunder and the lightning broke,
Shatt'ring themselves upon it at one stroke,
The Silence has not stirred, there in the heather.
The Star Sirius
© George Meredith
Bright Sirius! that when Orion pales
To dotlings under moonlight still art keen
To Count Carlo Pepoli
© Giacomo Leopardi
This wearisome and this distressing sleep
That we call life, O how dost thou support,
