Search Results for: poetry at work

< Return to Edgar Allan Poe Poems The Raven Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary, Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore— While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping, As of some one gently rapping—rapping at my chamber door. “‘Tis some visitor,” I muttered, […]

< Return to William Blake Poems The Voice of the Ancient Bard Youth of delight! come hither And see the opening morn, Image of Truth new-born. Doubt is fled, and clouds of reason, Dark disputes and artful teazing. Folly is an endless maze; Tangled roots perplex her ways; How many have fallen there! They stumble […]

< Return to William Blake Poems The Schoolboy I love to rise in a summer morn, When the birds sing on every tree; The distant huntsman winds his horn, And the skylark sings with me: O what sweet company! But to go to school in a summer morn,— O it drives all joy away! Under […]

Edgar Allan Poe Poems A Dream A Dream Within a Dream Al-Aaraaf Annabel Lee An Enigma A Valentine Bridal Ballad Dreamland Eldorado Eulalie Evening Star Fairyland For Annie Hymn Imitation Israfel Lenore Romance Silence Song Spirits of the Dead Tamerlane The Bells The City in the Sea The Lake The Raven The Sleeper The Valley […]

< Return to William Blake Poems To Tirzah Whate’er is born of mortal birth Must be consumèd with the earth, To rise from generation free: Then what have I to do with thee? The sexes sprung from shame and pride, Blowed in the morn, in evening died; But mercy changed death into sleep; The sexes […]

  < Return to William Blake Poems A Cradle Song Sleep, sleep, beauty bright, Dreaming in the joys of night; Sleep, sleep; in thy sleep Little sorrows sit and weep. Sweet babe, in thy face Soft desires I can trace, Secret joys and secret smiles, Little pretty infant wiles. As thy softest limbs I feel, […]

< Return to William Blake Poems A Little Girl Lost Children of the future age, Reading this indignant page, Know that in a former time Love, sweet love, was thought a crime. In the age of gold, Free from winter’s cold, Youth and maiden bright, To the holy light, Naked in the sunny beams delight. […]

< Return to William Blake Poems A Little Boy Lost ‘Nought loves another as itself, Nor venerates another so, Nor is it possible to thought A greater than itself to know. ‘And, father, how can I love you Or any of my brothers more? I love you like the little bird That picks up crumbs […]

< Return to William Blake Poems Infant Sorrow My mother groaned, my father wept: Into the dangerous world I leapt, Helpless, naked, piping loud, Like a fiend hid in a cloud. Struggling in my father’s hands, Striving against my swaddling bands, Bound and weary, I thought best To sulk upon my mother’s breast. —William Blake […]

< Return to Wallace Stevens Poems Autumn Long lines of coral light And evening star. One shade that leads the night On from afar. And I keep, sorrowing. This sunless zone. Waiting and resting here. In calm above. —Wallace Stevens Did you like Autumn by Wallace Stevens? You might like this poetry book: Buy How […]

< Return to Wallace Stevens Poems Ballade of the Pink Parasol I pray thee, where is the old-time wig. And where is the lofty hat? Where is the maid on the road in her gig. And where is the fire-side cat? Never was sight more fair than that. Outshining, outreaching them all. There in the […]

< Return to Wallace Stevens Poems Banal Sojourn Two wooden tubs of blue hydrangeas stand at the foot of the stone steps . The sky is a blue gum streaked with rose. The trees are black. The grackles crack their throats of bone in the smooth air. Moisture and heat have swollen the garden into […]

< Return to Wallace Stevens Poems Bantams in Pine-Woods Chieftain Iffucan of Azcan in caftan Of tan with henna hackles, halt! Damned universal cock, as if the sun Was blackamoor to bear your blazing tail. Fat! Fat! Fat! Fat! I am the personal. Your world is you. I am my world. You ten-foot poet among […]

< Return to Wallace Stevens Poems Bowl For what emperor Was this bowl of Earth designed? Here are more things Than on any bowl of the Sungs, Even the rarest — Vines that take The various obscurities of the moon. Approaching rain And leaves that would be loose upon the wind. Pears on pointed trees. […]

< Return to Wallace Stevens Poems The Bird with the Coppery, Keen Claws Above the forest of the parakeets, A parakeet of parakeets prevails, A pip of life amid a mort of tails. (The rudiments of tropics are around. Aloe of ivory, pear of rusty rind). His lids are white because his eyes are blind. […]

< Return to All John Keats This Living Hand This living hand, now warm and capable Of earnest grasping, would, if it were cold And in the icy silence of the tomb, So haunt thy days and chill thy dreaming nights That thou would wish thine own heart dry of blood So in my veins […]