DESPAIRING cries float ceaselessly toward me, day and night,
The sad voice of Death-the call of my nearest lover, putting forth,
alarmed, uncertain,
This sea I am quickly to sail, come tell me,
Come tell me where I am speeding-tell me my destination.

Sappho

© James Wright

The twilight falls; I soften the dusting feathers,
And clean again.
The house has lain and moldered for three days.
The windows smeared with rain, the curtains torn,
The mice come in,
The kitchen blown with cold.

Alicante Lullaby

© Sylvia Plath

In Alicante they bowl the barrels

Bumblingly over the nubs of the cobbles

Effort at Speech Between Two People

© Katha Pollitt

: Speak to me. Take my hand. What are you now?
I will tell you all. I will conceal nothing.
When I was three, a little child read a story about a rabbit
who died, in the story, and I crawled under a chair :
a pink rabbit : it was my birthday, and a candle
burnt a sore spot on my finger, and I was told to be happy.

The Drunken Boat

© Arthur Rimbaud

As I was going down impassive Rivers,

I no longer felt myself guided by haulers:

Morte d'Arthur

© Alfred Tennyson

To him replied the bold Sir Bedivere:
"It is not meet, Sir King, to leave thee thus,
Aidless, alone, and smitten thro' the helm.
A little thing may harm a wounded man.
Yet I thy hest will all perform at full,
Watch what I see, and lightly bring thee word."

Vanity Fair

© Wilcox Ella Wheeler

In Vanity Fair, as we bow and smile,

As we talk of the opera after the weather,

The Sea-Change

© Ernest Christopher Dowson

Where river and ocean meet in a great tempestuous frown,
Beyond the bar, where on the dunes the white-capped rollers break;
Above, one windmill stands forlorn on the arid, grassy down:
I will set my sail on a stormy day and cross the bar and seek
That I have sought and never found, the exquisite one crown,
Which crowns one day with all its calm the passionate and the weak.

The Spider and the Ghost of the Fly

© Roald Dahl

Once I loved a spider

When I was born a fly,

May-Bloom

Oh, for You that I never knew !
Now that the Spring is swelling,
And over the way is a whitening may,
In the yard of my neighbors dwelling.

Childhood

And yet the practice worldlings call
Business, and weighty action all,
Checking the poor child for his play,
But gravely cast themselves away.

Upon Wedlock, and Death of Children

A Curious Knot God made in Paradise,
And drew it out inamled neatly Fresh.
It was the True-Love Knot, more sweet than spice
And set with all the flowres of Graces dress.
Its Weddens Knot, that ne're can be unti'de.
No Alexanders Sword can it divide.