Today (Billy Collins Poem)
If ever there were a spring day so perfect, so uplifted by a warm intermittent breeze that it made you ...
If ever there were a spring day so perfect, so uplifted by a warm intermittent breeze that it made you ...
'Of course,' I said, 'we cannot hope to find What we are looking for in anyone; They glitter, maybe, but ...
Nature, when she made thee, dear, Begged the treasures of the year. For thy cheeks, all pink and white, Spring ...
Make your daily monument the Ego, use a masochist's epistemology of shame and dog-eared certainty that others less exacting might ...
When I think of the many people who privately despise children, I can't say I'm completely shocked, having been one. ...
I know it's a bad title but I'm giving it to myself as a gift on a day nearly canceled ...
Beautiful cloud! with folds so soft and fair, Swimming in the pure quiet air! Thy fleeces bathed in sunlight, while ...
The day had been a day of wind and storm;-- The wind was laid, the storm was overpast,-- And stooping ...
Come, take our boy, and we will go Before our cabin door; The winds shall bring us, as they blow, ...
Slowly up silent peaks, the white edge of the world, Trod four archangels, clear against the unheeding sky, Bearing, with ...
Slowly up silent peaks, the white edge of the world, Trod four archangels, clear against the unheeding sky, Bearing, with ...
Here, where love's stuff is body, arm and side Are stabbing-sweet 'gainst chair and lamp and wall. In every touch ...
In darkness the loud sea makes moan; And earth is shaken, and all evils creep About her ways. Oh, now ...
The Day that Youth had died, There came to his grave-side, In decent mourning, from the country's ends, Those scatter'd ...
Mamua, when our laughter ends, And hearts and bodies, brown as white, Are dust about the doors of friends, Or ...
The day that YOUTH had died, There came to his grave-side, In decent mourning, from the country's ends, Those scatter'd ...
In darkness the loud sea makes moan; And earth is shaken, and all evils creep About her ways. Oh, now ...
The Grower of Trees, the gardener, the man born to farming, whose hands reach into the ground and sprout to ...
The sweet juices of your mouth are like castles bathed in honey. I've never had it done so gently before. ...
as the poems go into the thousands you realize that you've created very little. it comes down to the rain, ...
Now can you see the monument? It is of wood built somewhat like a box. No. Built like several boxes ...
No, I shall not say why it is that I love you- Why do you ask me, save for vanity? ...
Wind blows. Snow falls. The great clock in its tower Ticks with reverberant coil and tolls the hour: At the ...
You see that porcelain ranged there in the window- Platters and soup-plates done with pale pink rosebuds, And tiny violets, ...
You read-what is it, then that you are reading? What music moves so silently in your mind? Your bright hand ...
Of what she said to me that night-no matter. The strange thing came next day. My brain was full of ...
'Number four-the girl who died on the table- The girl with golden hair-' The purpling body lies on the polished ...
Round white clouds roll slowly above the housetops, Over the clear red roofs they flow and pass. A flock of ...
Two lovers, here at the corner, by the steeple, Two lovers blow together like music blowing: And the crowd dissolves ...
More towers must yet be built-more towers destroyed- Great rocks hoisted in air; And he must seek his bread in ...
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