by John Keats The poetry of earth is never dead： When all the birds are faint with the hot sun， And hide in cooling trees， a voice will run From hedge...
by Amy Clampitt cold nights on the farm， a sock-shod stove-warmed flatiron slid under the covers， mornings a damascene sealed bizarrerie of fernwork d...
by Susan Howe 1. age of earth and us all chattering a sentence or character suddenly steps out to seek for truth fails falls into a stream of ink Sequ...
by W. H. Auden Among pelagian travelers， Lost on their lewd conceited way To Massachusetts， Michigan， Miami or L.A.， An airborne instrument I sit， Pre...
by Maxine Kumin And suppose the darlings get to Mantua，suppose they cheat the crypt， what next？ Begin with him， unshaven. Though not， I grant you， a d...
by Ben Jonson Farewell， thou child of my right hand， and joy； My sin was too much hope of thee， lov'd boy. Seven years thou'wert lent to me， a...
by Elaine Sexton She is perfectly ordinary， a cashmere scarf snugly wrapped around her neck. She is a middle age that is crisp， appealing in New York....
by Alan Dugan The trees in time have something else to do besides their treeing. What is it. I'm a starving to death man myself， and thirsty， thir...
by Alicia Suskin Ostriker I am not lyric any more I will not play the harp for your pleasure I will not make a joyful noise to you， neither will I lam...
by George Moses Horton Alas！ and am I born for this， To wear this slavish chain？ Deprived of all created bliss， Through hardship， toil， and pain！ How ...