Poetry
White Christmas Forecasters generally consider a white Christmas to be an inch of snow on the ground or an inch falling that day. -News Item But along the river bottoms, snow found no place, When …
The New-England Boys’ Song About Thanksgiving Day Over the river and through the woods, To Grandfather's house we go; The horse knows the way to carry the sleigh Through the white and drifted snow. Over …
No! No sun—no moon! No morn—no noon— No dawn—no dusk—no proper time of day— No sky—no earthly view— No distance looking blue— No road—no street—no “t’other side the way”— No end to any Row— No …
Kubla Khan Or, a vision in a dream. A Fragment. In Xanadu did Kubla Khan A stately pleasure-dome decree: Where Alph, the sacred river, ran Through caverns measureless to man Down to a sunless sea. …
On Fields o’er Which the Reaper’s Hand Has Pass’d On fields o’er which the reaper’s hand has pass’d Lit by the harvest moon and autumn sun, My thoughts like stubble floating in the wind And …
The Yellow Twine His father’s baseball glove At night, each night, tucked under his bed— Strict prudence of a child’s desperate love Not said in words but said. Once a light khaki, now Darkened by …
On an apple-ripe September morning Through the mist-chill fields I went With a pitch-fork on my shoulder Less for use than for devilment. The threshing mill was set-up, I knew, In Cassidy’s haggard last night, …
Through the Forest of Gloomy Sadness: A Ballade Through the forest of gloomy sadness I chanced to make my way one day, And there I met with Love’s Goddess Who spoke and asked why I …
The Lord of Oc and No The beautiful spring delights me well, When flowers and leaves are growing; And it pleases my heart to hear the swell Of the birds’ sweet chorus flowing In the …
Blackberry-Picking Late August, given heavy rain and sun For a full week, the blackberries would ripen. At first, just one, a glossy purple clot Among others, red, green, hard as a knot. You ate that …
I have a firm desire, and I enter Unbending, driven deeply, hard as nail. What lies! Such gossip has plundered my soul— But since I cannot bear this flimsy rod, I’ll play the flute until …
Ballade of the Ladies of Yore Tell me where, in what country, Is Flora the beautiful Roman, Archipiada or Thais Who was first cousin to her once, Echo who speaks when there’s a sound On …
Grace We tell ourselves the truth at random times: what we crave from the menu, what sounds ridiculous on film. Otherwise, we hoard secrets: brown mice building a nest in the center of the woodpile, …
A boat, beneath a sunny sky Lingering onward dreamily In an evening of July — Children three that nestle near, Eager eye and willing ear Pleased a simple tale to hear — Long has paled …
The Young Fools High-heels were struggling with a full-length dress So that, between the wind and the terrain, At times a shining stocking would be seen, And gone too soon. We liked that foolishness. Also, …
Cats They are alike, prim scholar and perfervid lover: When comes the season of decay, they both decide Upon sweet, husky cats to be the household pride; Cats choose, like them, to sit, and like …