Mom poems
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It Is March
© William Stanley Merwin
It is March and black dust falls out of the books
Soon I will be gone
The tall spirit who lodged here has
Left already
On the avenues the colorless thread lies under
Old prices
Modern Love XLVII: We Saw the Swallows
© George Meredith
We saw the swallows gathering in the sky,
And in the osier-isle we heard them noise.
We had not to look back on summer joys,
Or forward to a summer of bright dye:
Modern Love V: A Message from Her
© George Meredith
A message from her set his brain aflame.
A world of household matters filled her mind,
Wherein he saw hypocrisy designed:
She treated him as something that is tame,
A Swimmer's Dream
© Algernon Charles Swinburne
III
Far off westward, whither sets the sounding strife,
Strife more sweet than peace, of shoreless waves whose glee
Scorns the shore and loves the wind that leaves them free,
Strange as sleep and pale as death and fair as life,
Shifts the moonlight-coloured sunshine on the sea.
Anaphora
© Elizabeth Bishop
In memory of Marjorie Carr Stevens
Each day with so much ceremony
begins, with birds, with bells,
with whistles from a factory;
The Weed
© Elizabeth Bishop
I dreamed that dead, and meditating,
I lay upon a grave, or bed,
(at least, some cold and close-built bower).
In the cold heart, its final thought
The Moose
© Elizabeth Bishop
From narrow provinces
of fish and bread and tea,
home of the long tides
where the bay leaves the sea
twice a day and takes
the herrings long rides,
These Little Songs
© William Allingham
These little Songs,
Found here and there,
Floating in air
By forest and lea,
After Sunset
© William Allingham
The vast and solemn company of clouds
Around the Sun's death, lit, incarnadined,
Cool into ashy wan; as Night enshrouds
The level pasture, creeping up behind
A Dream
© William Allingham
I heard the dogs howl in the moonlight night;
I went to the window to see the sight;
All the Dead that ever I knew
Going one by one and two by two.
In The Well
© Andrew Hudgins
My father cinched the rope,
a noose around my waist,
and lowered me into
the darkness. I could taste
Severed and Gone
© Anne Brontë
I know the corner where it lies,
Is but a dreary place of rest:
The charnel moisture never dries
From the dark flagstones o'er its breast,
Self Communion
© Anne Brontë
'So was it, and so will it be:
Thy God will guide and strengthen thee;
His goodness cannot fail.
The sun that on thy morning rose
Will light thee to the evening's close,
Whatever storms assail.'
Lines Inscribed on The Wall of a Dungeon in The Southern P of I
© Anne Brontë
They knew, such tidings to impart
Would pierce my weary spirit through,
And could they better read my heart,
They'd tell me, she was smiling too.
Alexander And Zenobia
© Anne Brontë
One was a boy of just fourteen
Bold beautiful and bright;
Soft raven curls hung clustering round
A brow of marble white.
You Can Be A Republican, I'm A Genocrat
© Ogden Nash
Oh, "rorty" was a mid-Victorian word
Which meant "fine, splendid, jolly,"
And often to me it has reoccurred
In moments melancholy.
For instance, children, I think it rorty
To be with people over forty.
The Hippopotamus
© Ogden Nash
Behold the hippopotamus!
We laugh at how he looks to us,
And yet in moments dank and grim,
I wonder how we look to him.
Reflection On Caution
© Ogden Nash
Affection is a noble quality;
It leads to generosity and jollity.
But it also leads to breach of promise
If you go around lavishing it on red-hot momise.
Goody for Our Side and Your Side Too
© Ogden Nash
Foreigners are people somewhere else,
Natives are people at home;
If the place youre at
Is your habitat,
Golden Age
© Arthur Rimbaud
One of the voices
Always angelic -
It is about me, -
Sharply expresses itself :
