Category Poets

These—saw Visions— Latch them softly— These—held Dimples— Smooth them slow— This—addressed departing accents— Quick—Sweet Mouth—to miss thee so— This—We stroked— Unnumbered Satin— These—we held among our own— Fingers of the Slim Aurora— Not so arrogant—this Noon— These—adjust—that ran to meet…

These tested Our Horizon— Then disappeared As Birds before achieving A Latitude. Our Retrospection of Them A fixed Delight, But our Anticipation A Dice—a Doubt—

These are the days when Birds come back— A very few—a Bird or two— To take a backward look. These are the days when skies resume The old—old sophistries of June— A blue and gold mistake. Oh fraud that cannot…

There’s something quieter than sleep Within this inner room! It wears a sprig upon its breast— And will not tell its name. Some touch it, and some kiss it— Some chafe its idle hand— It has a simple gravity I…

There’s been a Death, in the Opposite House, As lately as Today— I know it, by the numb look Such Houses have—alway— The Neighbors rustle in and out— The Doctor—drives away— A Window opens like a Pod— Abrupt—mechanically— Somebody flings…

There’s a certain slant of light, On winter afternoons That oppresses, like the weight Of cathedral tunes. Heavenly hurt it gives us; We can find no scar, But internal difference Where the meanings, are. None may teach it anything, ‘T…

There is no frigate like a book To take us lands away, Nor any coursers like a page Of prancing poetry. This traverse may the poorest take Without oppress of toll; How frugal is the chariot That bears a human…

There is another sky, Ever serene and fair, And there is another sunshine, Though it be darkness there; Never mind faded forests, Austin, Never mind silent fields— Here is a little forest, Whose leaf is ever green; Here is a…

There is an arid Pleasure— As different from Joy— As Frost is different from Dew— Like element—are they— Yet one—rejoices Flowers— And one—the Flowers abhor— The finest Honey—curdled— Is worthless—to the Bee—

There is a word Which bears a sword Can pierce an armed man— It hurls its barbed syllables And is mute again— But where it fell The saved will tell On patriotic day, Some epauletted Brother Gave his breath away.…