Truth poems
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A Light Woman
© Robert Browning
So far as our story approaches the end,
Which do you pity the most of us three?
My friend, or the mistress of my friend
With her wanton eyes, or me?
A Woman's Last Word
© Robert Browning
Let's contend no more, Love,
Strive nor weep:
All be as before, Love,
Only sleep!
Any Wife To Any Husband
© Robert Browning
My love, this is the bitterest, that thou
Who art all truth and who dost love me now
As thine eyes say, as thy voice breaks to say
Shouldst love so truly and couldst love me still
A whole long life through, had but love its will,
Would death that leads me from thee brook delay!
The Lads in Their Hundreds
© Alfred Edward Housman
The lads in their hundreds to Ludlow come in for the fair,
There's men from the barn and the forge and the mill and the fold,
The lads for the girls and the lads for the liquor are there,
And there with the rest are the lads that will never be old.
Others, I Am Not the First
© Alfred Edward Housman
Others, I am not the first,
Have willed more mischief than they durst:
If in the breathless night I too
Shiver now, 'tis nothing new.
The Chestnut Casts His Flambeaux
© Alfred Edward Housman
The chestnut casts his flambeaux, and the flowers
Stream from the hawthorn on the wind away,
The doors clap to, the pane is blind with showers.
Pass me the can, lad; there's an end of May.
If Truth in Hearts That Perish
© Alfred Edward Housman
If truth in hearts that perish
Could move the powers on high,
I think the love I bear you
Should make you not to die.
Fragment of a Greek Tragedy
© Alfred Edward Housman
CHORUS: O suitably-attired-in-leather-boots
Head of a traveller, wherefore seeking whom
Whence by what way how purposed art thou come
To this well-nightingaled vicinity?
Poem With Refrains
© Robert Pinsky
But they did speak: on the phone. Wept and argued,
So fiercely one or the other often cut off
A sentence by hanging up in rage--like lovers,
But all that year she never saw her face.
Baccalaureate
© Archibald MacLeish
And these are more than memories of youth
Which earth's four winds of pain shall blow away;
These are earth's symbols of eternal truth,
Symbols of dream and imagery and flame,
Symbols of those same verities that play
Bright through the crumbling gold of a great name.
The Stupid Jerk I'm Obsessed With
© Maggie Estep
The stupid jerk I'm obsessed with
stands so close to me
I can feel his breath
on my neck
A Way to Love God
© Robert Penn Warren
Here is the shadow of truth, for only the shadow is true.
And the line where the incoming swell from the sunset Pacific
First leans and staggers to break will tell all you need to know
About submarine geography, and your father's death rattle
Provides all biographical data required for the Who's Who of the dead.
The Wood Road
© Edna St. Vincent Millay
If I were to walk this way
Hand in hand with Grief,
I should mark that maple-spray
Coming into leaf.
The Leaf And The Tree
© Edna St. Vincent Millay
Here, I think, is the heart's grief:
The tree, no mightier than the leaf,
Makes firm its root and spreads it crown
And stands; but in the end comes down.
That airy top no boy could climb
Bluebeard
© Edna St. Vincent Millay
This door you might not open, and you did;
So enter now, and see for what slight thing
You are betrayed... Here is no treasure hid,
No cauldron, no clear crystal mirroring
Interim
© Edna St. Vincent Millay
The room is full of you!As I came in
And closed the door behind me, all at once
A something in the air, intangible,
Yet stiff with meaning, struck my senses sick!
The Suicide
© Edna St. Vincent Millay
Thus I to Life, and ceased, and slightly smiled,
Looking at nothing; and my thin dreams filed
Before me one by one till once again
I set new words unto an old refrain:
Sonnet 06: Bluebeard
© Edna St. Vincent Millay
This door you might not open, and you did;
So enter now, and see for what slight thing
You are betrayed.... Here is no treasure hid
No cauldron, no clear crystal mirroring
Prisoner, The - (A Fragment)
© Emily Jane Brontë
In the dungeon-crypts, idly did I stray,
Reckless of the lives wasting there away;
"Draw the ponderous bars! open, Warder stern!"
He dared not say me nay - the hinges harshly turn.
To Laura (Mystery Of Reminiscence)
© Johann Christoph Friedrich Von Schiller
Who and what gave to me the wish to woo thee--
Still, lip to lip, to cling for aye unto thee?
Who made thy glances to my soul the link--
Who bade me burn thy very breath to drink--
