by Robert Frost When I see birches bend to left and right Across the lines of straighter darker trees， I like to think some boy's been swinging th...
by Marilyn Nelson It's the ragged source of memory， a tarpaper-shingled bungalow whose floors tilt toward the porch， whose back yard ends abruptly...
by Edwin Arlington Robinson They are all gone away， The House is shut and still， There is nothing more to say. Through broken walls and gray The winds...
by Ruth Herschberger I swam the Huron of love， and am not ashamed， It was many saw me do it， scoffing， scoffing， They said it was foolish， winter and ...
by Alicia Suskin Ostriker -for Elizabeth Bishop Tuwee， calls a bird near the house， Tuwee， cries another， downhill in the woods. No wind， early Septem...
by Jim Harrison A secret came a week ago though I already knew it just beyond the bruised lips of consciousness. The very alive souls of thirty-five h...
by Michael Collier One had feathers like a blood-streaked koi， another a tail of color-coded wires. One was a blackbird stretching orchid wings， anoth...
by Harryette Mullen We need quarters like King Tut needed a boat. A slave could row him to heaven from his crypt in Egypt full of loot. We've live...
by Wallace Stevens She sang beyond the genius of the sea. The water never formed to mind or voice， Like a body wholly body， fluttering Its empty sleev...
by César Vallejo Translated by Robert Bly I will die in Paris， on a rainy day， on some day I can already remember. I will die in Paris—&m...