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The Rapture Of The Year
© James Whitcomb Riley
The ho! and hey! and whop-hooray!
Though winter clouds be looming,
Remember a November day
Is merrier than mildest May
With all her blossoms blooming.
Hymns to the Night : 5
© Novalis
In ancient times, over the widespread families of men an iron Fate ruled with dumb force. A gloomy oppression swathed their heavy souls - the earth was boundless - the abode of the gods and their home. From eternal ages stood its mysterious structure. Beyond the red hills of the morning, in the sacred bosom of the sea, dwelt the sun, the all-enkindling, living Light. An aged giant upbore the blissful world. Fast beneath mountains lay the first-born sons of mother Earth. Helpless in their destroying fury against the new, glorious race of gods, and their kindred, glad-hearted men. The ocean's dark green abyss was the lap of a goddess. In crystal grottos revelled a luxuriant folk. Rivers, trees, flowers, and beasts had human wits. Sweeter tasted the wine - poured out by Youth-abundance - a god in the grape-clusters - a loving, motherly goddess upgrew in the full golden sheaves - love's sacred inebriation was a sweet worship of the fairest of the god-ladies - Life rustled through the centuries like one spring-time, an ever-variegated festival of heaven-children and earth-dwellers. All races childlike adored the ethereal, thousand-fold flame as the one sublimest thing in the world. There was but one notion, a horrible dream-shape -
That fearsome to the merry tables strode,
City Without a Name
© Czeslaw Milosz
1
Who will honor the city without a name
If so many are dead and others pan gold
Or sell arms in faraway countries?
For ever with the Lord!
© James Montgomery
"For ever with the Lord!"
Amen, so let it be;
Life from the dead is in that word,
'Tis immortality.
The Definition of Gardening
© James Tate
Jim just loves to garden, yes he does.
He likes nothing better than to put on
Dressing My Daughters
© Mark Jarman
One girl a full head taller
Than the other—into their Sunday dresses.
After This The Judgement
© Christina Georgina Rossetti
As eager homebound traveller to the goal,
Or steadfast seeker on an unsearched main,
To Mrs K____, On Her Sending Me an English Christmas Plum-Cake at Paris
© Helen Maria Williams
What crowding thoughts around me wake,
What marvels in a Christmas-cake!
Fear No More the Heat o' the Sun
© William Shakespeare
GUIDERIUS. Feare no more the heate o' th' Sun,
Nor the furious Winters rages,
Thou thy worldly task hast don,
Home art gon, and tane thy wages.
Golden Lads, and Girles all must,
As Chimney-Sweepers come to dust.
The Letter From Home by Nancyrose Houston : American Life in Poetry #252 Ted Kooser, U.S. Poet Laure
© Ted Kooser
My grandfather, when in his nineties, wrote me a letter in which he listed everything he and my uncle had eaten in the past week. That was the news. I love this poem by Nancyrose Houston of Seattle for the way it plays with the character of those letters from home that many of us have received.
A Shropshire Lad I: From Clee to heaven the beacon burns
© Alfred Edward Housman
From Clee to heaven the beacon burns,
The shires have seen it plain,
From north and south the sign returns
And beacons burn again.
Plaint Of The Missouri 'Coon In The Berlin Zoological Gardens
© Eugene Field
Friend, by the way you hump yourself you're from the States, I know,
And born in old Mizzourah, where the 'coons in plenty grow;
Basil Moss
© Henry Kendall
SING, mountain-wind, thy strong, superior song
Thy haughty alpine anthem, over tracts
Villon
© Ted Hughes
He whom we anatomized
‘whose words we gathered as pleasant flowers
and thought on his wit and how neatly he described things’
speaks
to us, hatching marrow,
broody all night over the bones of a deadman.
William Blake
© Dante Gabriel Rossetti
THIS is the place. Even here the dauntless soul,
The unflinching hand, wrought on; till in that nook,
