Search Results for: by hand

< Return to William Blake Poems The Little Girl Found All the night in woe Lyca’s parents go Over valleys deep, While the deserts weep. Tired and woe-begone, Hoarse with making moan, Arm in arm, seven days They traced the desert ways. Seven nights they sleep Among shadows deep, And dream they see their child […]

The Charge of the Light Brigade I Half a league, half a league, Half a league onward, All in the valley of Death     Rode the six hundred. “Forward, the Light Brigade! Charge for the guns!” he said. Into the valley of Death     Rode the six hundred. II “Forward, the Light Brigade!” Was there a man […]

Put a poetic spin on dusk with the top 10 dusk poems! Enjoy some well-known classics, & other lesser-known gems. 1 • Winter    Clouded with snow    The cold winds blow, And shrill on leafless bough The robin with its burning breast    Alone sings now.    The rayless sun,    Day’s journey done, Sheds its last ebbing light […]

< Return to Emily Dickinson Poems XVI. APOCALYPSE. I’m wife; I’ve finished that, That other state; I’m Czar, I’m woman now: It’s safer so. How odd the girl’s life looks Behind this soft eclipse! I think that earth seems so To those in heaven now. This being comfort, then That other kind was pain; But […]

< Return to Emily Dickinson Poems XV. RESURRECTION. ‘T was a long parting, but the time For interview had come; Before the judgment-seat of God, The last and second time These fleshless lovers met, A heaven in a gaze, A heaven of heavens, the privilege Of one another’s eyes. No lifetime set on them, Apparelled […]

< Return to Emily Dickinson Poems XIV. LOVE’S BAPTISM. I’m ceded, I’ve stopped being theirs; The name they dropped upon my face With water, in the country church, Is finished using now, And they can put it with my dolls, My childhood, and the string of spools I’ve finished threading too. Baptized before without the […]

< Return to Emily Dickinson Poems XIII. RENUNCIATION. There came a day at summer’s full Entirely for me; I thought that such were for the saints, Where revelations be. The sun, as common, went abroad, The flowers, accustomed, blew, As if no soul the solstice passed That maketh all things new. The time was scarce […]

< Return to Emily Dickinson Poems XII. IN VAIN. I cannot live with you, It would be life, And life is over there Behind the shelf The sexton keeps the key to, Putting up Our life, his porcelain, Like a cup Discarded of the housewife, Quaint or broken; A newer Sevres pleases, Old ones crack. […]

< Return to Emily Dickinson Poems XI. THE OUTLET. My river runs to thee: Blue sea, wilt welcome me? My river waits reply. Oh sea, look graciously! I’ll fetch thee brooks From spotted nooks, — Say, sea, Take me! —Emily Dickinson From Poems: Second Series Edited by Mabel Loomis Todd and T.W. Higginson. BUY ‘HOW […]

< Return to William Blake Poems The Little Girl Lost In futurity I prophesy That the earth from sleep (Grave the sentence deep) Shall arise, and seek For her Maker meek; And the desert wild Become a garden mild. In the southern clime, Where the summer’s prime Never fades away, Lovely Lyca lay. Seven summers […]

< Return to Wallace Stevens Poems Sunday Morning           I Complacencies of the peignoir, and late Coffee and oranges in a sunny chair, And the green freedom of a cockatoo Upon a rug mingle to dissipate The holy hush of ancient sacrifice. She dreams a little, and she feels the dark […]

< Return to Wallace Stevens Poems Architecture for the Adoration of Beauty I What manner of building shall we build for the adoration of beauty? Let us design this chastel de chastete, De pensee . . Never cease to deploy the structure . . . Keep the laborers shouldering plinths . . . Pass the […]

< Return to Wallace Stevens Poems The Apostrophe to Vincentine I I figured you as nude between Monotonous earth and dark blue sky. It made you seem so small and lean And nameless. Heavenly Vincentine. II I saw you then, as warm as flesh. Brunette, But yet not too brunette. As warm, as clean Your […]

< Return to Wallace Stevens Poems Another Weeping Woman Pour the unhappiness out From your too bitter heart. Which grieving will not sweeten. Poison grows in this dark. It is in the water of tears Its black blooms rise. The magnificent cause of being— The imagination, the one reality In this imagined world— Leaves you […]

< Return to Wallace Stevens Poems Anecdote of Men by the Thousand The soul, he said, is composed Of the external world. There are men of the East, he said. Who are the East. There are men of a province Who are that province . There are men of a valley Who are that valley. […]

< Return to Wallace Stevens Poems Anecdote of Canna Huge are the canna in the dreams of X, the mighty thought, the mighty man. They fill the terrace of his capitol. His thought sleeps not. Yet thought that wakes In sleep may never meet another thought Or thing . . . Now day-break comes . […]

To the Chief Musician upon Nabla: A Tyndallic Ode                               I. I come from fields of fractured ice,           Whose wounds are cured by squeezing, Melting they cool, but in a trice,           […]