Men poems
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Paradise Lost: Book IX (1674)
© Patrick Kavanagh
To whom the Virgin Majestie of Eve,
As one who loves, and some unkindness meets,
With sweet austeer composure thus reply'd,
The Painter Dreaming in the Scholar’s House
© Howard Nemerov
The painter’s eye follows relation out.
His work is not to paint the visible,
He says, it is to render visible.
Proem.
© Robert Crawford
I only knew one poet in my life.
BROWNING.
I have not known a poet but myself,
If I'm indeed one, as I ought to be,
Postpartum Blues
© Joseph Brodsky
But what's in the way
To the way in? God,
That desperate explanation,
Mentor and tormentor, giving us
The duties of paradise,
The Vision Of Piers Plowman - Part 08
© William Langland
Thus yrobed in russet I romed aboute
Al a somer seson for to seke Dowel,
The Soul Of The Anzac
© Roderic Quinn
THE form that was mine was brown and hard,
And thewed and muscled, and tall and straight;
Corsons Inlet
© Archie Randolph Ammons
I went for a walk over the dunes again this morning
to the sea,
then turned right along
the surf
rounded a naked headland
and returned
The Baby
© Ezra Pound
The baby new to earth and sky
Has never until now
Unto himself the question put
Or asked us if the cow
For The King
© Francis Bret Harte
As you look from the plaza at Leon west
You can see her house, but the view is best
From the porch of the church where she lies at rest;
The Snowmass Cycle
© Stephen Dunn
If the rich are casually cruel
perhaps its because
they can stare at the sky
and never see an indictment
in the shape of clouds.
Northern Farmer: Old Style
© Alfred Tennyson
Wheer 'asta beän saw long and meä liggin' 'ere aloän?
Noorse? thoort nowt o' a noorse: whoy, Doctor's abeän an' agoän;
Says that I moänt 'a naw moor aäle; but I beänt a fool;
Git ma my aäle, fur I beänt a-gawin' to breäk my rule.
Homage To Sextus Propertius - XII
© Ezra Pound
Upon the Actian marshes Virgil is Phoebus' chief of police,
He can tabulate Caesar's great ships.
He thrills to Ilian arms,
He shakes the Trojan weapons of Aeneas,
And casts stores on Lavinian beaches.
from The Faerie Queene: Book I, Canto I
© Edmund Spenser
Lo I the man, whose Muse whilome did maske,
As time her taught in lowly Shepheards weeds,
The Idols
© Robert Laurence Binyon
I.2
The Forests of the Night awaken blind in heat
Of black stupor; and stirring in its deep retreat,
I hear the heart of Darkness slowly beat and beat.
On Imagination
© Phillis Wheatley
Thy various works, imperial queen, we see,
How bright their forms! how deck'd with pomp by thee!
Thy wond'rous acts in beauteous order stand,
And all attest how potent is thine hand.
Holy Sonnets: Batter my heart, three-person'd God
© John Donne
Batter my heart, three-person'd God, for you
As yet but knock, breathe, shine, and seek to mend;
