Mom poems
/ page 166 of 212 /A Spirit Present
© Dinah Maria Mulock Craik
IF, coming from that unknown sphere
Where I believe thou art,--
The world unseen which girds our world
So close, yet so apart,--
The Earth Falls Down
© Anne Sexton
If I could blame it all on the weather,
the snow like the cadaver's table,
the trees turned into knitting needles,
the ground as hard as a frozen haddock,
Patmos
© Friedrich Hölderlin
The god
Is near, and hard to grasp.
But where there is danger,
A rescuing element grows as well.
Fate.
© Robert Crawford
O Thou, who knowest whence we came, and can
Endow a moment with the mood of Man,
When my wan moment like a dream is gone,
Destroy or take me then where I began.
To A Friend Whose Work Has Come To Triumph
© Anne Sexton
Consider Icarus, pasting those sticky wintgs on,
testing that strange little tug at his shoulder blade,
and think of that first flawless moment over the lawn
of the labyrinth. Think of the difference it made!
Why Negroes Don't Unite
© Lizelia Augusta Jenkins Moorer
Why of all the many races in the country where we live,
Do we find so little union as the Negro race can give?
Is it lack of love? or color? who will give the reason true,
Why they cherish opposition more than other peoples do?
The Death Baby
© Anne Sexton
I was an ice baby.
I turned to sky blue.
My tears became two glass beads.
My mouth stiffened into a dumb howl.
They say it was a dream
but I remember that hardening.
Hurry Up Please It's Time
© Anne Sexton
What is death, I ask.
What is life, you ask.
I give them both my buttocks,
my two wheels rolling off toward Nirvana.
Her Face.
© Robert Crawford
There is a something in her face
Which in no other I can trace,
And feelings sweet as music stir
When I gaze in her dreamy eyes,
Sonnet. "But to be still! oh, but to cease awhile"
© Frances Anne Kemble
But to be still! oh, but to cease awhile
The panting breath and hurrying steps of life,
Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs
© Anne Sexton
No matter what life you lead
the virgin is a lovely number:
cheeks as fragile as cigarette paper,
arms and legs made of Limoges,
The Building Of The Cloud-Cuckoo-Town
© Aristophanes
_Mess_.--A most amazing, astonishing work it is!
So that Theagenes and Proxenides
Might flourish and gasconade and prance away
Quite at their ease, both of them four-in-hand,
Driving abreast upon the breadth of wall,
Each in his own new chariot.
For My Lover, Returning To His Wife
© Anne Sexton
She is all there.
She was melted carefully down for you
and cast up from your childhood,
cast up from your one hundred favorite aggies.
Courage
© Anne Sexton
It is in the small things we see it.
The child's first step,
as awesome as an earthquake.
The first time you rode a bike,
The Ohio Falls
© Madison Julius Cawein
On, on they come, a beautiful, mad troop!
On, on, along the sandy banks that fling
Red pebble-freckled arms far out to stay
The riotous waves that ride and hurl along
In casque and shield and wind their wat'ry horns.
Ode To Dragon
© Hannah More
Dragon! since lyrics are the mode,
To thee I dedicate my Ode,
And reason good I plead:
Are those who cannot write, to blame
To draw their hopes of future fame,
From those who cannot read?
He Had So Much Work To Do
© Henry Lawson
Jim was trucking for a sawmill to make money for the home,
He was making, out of Mudgee, for the family to come,
And a load-chain snapped the switch-bar, and Black Anderson found Jim,
In the morning, in a creek-bed, with a log on top of him.
The Princess (part 2)
© Alfred Tennyson
At break of day the College Portress came:
She brought us Academic silks, in hue
To Rinaldo
© Mary Darby Robinson
SOFT is the balmy breath of May,
When from the op'ning lids of day
Meek twilight steals; and from its wings
Translucent pearls of ether flings.