I'm Nobody! Who Are You?
By: Emily Dickinson
I'm nobody! Who are you?
Are you noboy, too?
Then there's a pair of us---don't tell!
They'd banish us, you know.
How drear to be somebody!
How public, like a frog,
To tell your name the livelong day
To an admiring bog!
Triad
By: Adelaide Crapsey
These be
Three silent things:
The falling snow...the hour
Before the dawn..the mouth of one
Just dead.
Magic
By: Thomas Wolfe
And who shall say--
Whatever disenchantment follows--
That we ever forget magic,
Or that we can ever betray,
On this leaden earth,
The apple-tree, the singing,
And the gold?
A Flower Given To My Daughter
By: James Joyce
Frail the white rose and frail are
Her hands that gave
Whose soul is sers and paler
Than time's wan wave.
Rosefrail and far--yet frailest
A wonder wild
In gentle eyes though veilest,
By blueveined child.
Captain Kelly Lets His Daughter Go To Be A Nun
By: Thomas Butlet Feeney, S.J.
Tiffany, Tiffany,
What are you doing
Deep in the mines
And under the sea?
Come out of that, Tiffany,
Out of the caverns,
Out of the ocean
And listen to me!
I own a jewel
Blanche as the moonlight,
Pearl as a sunset
Star on a hill;
Billions of bullion
Never could buy her,
Only the Gold
Who is God ever will.
Evolution
By: John Banister Tabb
Out of the dusk a shadow,
Then, a spark;
Out of the cloud a silence,
Then, a lark;
Out of the heart a rapture,
Then, a pain;
Out of the dead, cold ashes,
Life again.
On His Books
By: Hilaire Belloc
When I am dead, I hope it may be said:
'His sins were scarlet, but his books were read.'
I Take 'Em And Like 'Em
By: Margaret Fishback
I'm fonder of carats than carrots,
And orchild are nicer than beans,
But life in a series of garrets
Has made me receptive to greens.
Experience
By: Dorothy Parker
Some men break your heart in two,
Some men fawn and flatter,
Some men never look at you;
And that cleans up the matter.
Just And Unjust
By: Lord Bowen
The rain it raineth on the just
And also on the unjust fella;
But cheifly on the just, because
The unjust steals the just's umbrella.
I Stand Corrected
By: Margaret Fishback
When I was happy in my youth
I laid my state of mind to love,
But now, to tell the dismal truth,
I see I didn't know whereof
I spoke. For I have lately found---
With great dissatisfaction--that
Though love can make the world go round,
It often makes the world go flat.
Unfortunate Coincidence
By: Dorothy Parker
By the time you swear you're his,
Shivering and sighing,
And he vows his passion is
Infinite, undying--
Lady, make a note of this:
One of you is lying
When Adam Day By Day
By: A.E. Housman
When Adam day by day
Woke up in Paradise,
He always used to say
"Oh, this is very nice."
But Eve from scenes of bliss
Transported him for life.
The more I thik of this
The more I beat my wife.
Breathes There A Man
By: Samuel Hoffenstein
Breathes there a man with hide so tough
Who says two sexes aren't enough?
The Riddle
By: Ralph Hodgson
He told himself and he told his wife,
His boy and his dog the Facts of Life.
Guess who'd known them all along;
Guess who's found them in a song;
Guess who knew he'd got them wrong.
The Tides Of Love
By: T.A. Daly
Flo was fond of Ebenezer--
"Eb," for short, she called her beau.
Talk of Tides Of Love, great Caesar!
You should see them---Eb and Flo.
Annabel Lee
By: Edgar Allan Poe
It was many and many a year ago,
In a kingdom by the sea
That a maiden there lived whom you may know
By the name of Annabel Lee;--
And this maiden she lived with no other though
Then to love and be loved by me.
I was a child and she was a child,
In this kingdom by the sea,
But we loved with a love that was more than love--
I and my Annabel Lee-
With a love that the winged seraphs in Heaven
Coveted her and me.
And this was the reason that, long ago,
In this kingdom by the sea,
A wind blew out of a cloud, chilling
My beautiful Annabel Lee;
So that her high-born kindsmen cam
And bore her away from me,
To shut her up in a sepulcher
In this kingdom by the sea.
The angels, not half so happy in Heaven,
Went envying her and me;--
Yes!--that was the reason (as all men know,
In this kingdom by the sea)
That the wind came out of the cloud, by night,
Chilling and killing my Annabel Lee.
But our love it was stronger by far than the love
Of those who were older than we--
Of many far wiser than we--
And neither the angels in Heaven above,
Nor the demons down under the sea,
Can ever dissever my soul from the soul
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee:--
For the moon never beams without bringing me dreams
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
And the stars never rise but I feel the bright eyes
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by side by side
Of my darling, --my darling,--my life and my bride,
In the sepulcher there by the sea--
In her tomb by the sounding sea.
Poplar
By: Gottfried Benn
Restrained,
with branch and young shoot undisclosed
to cry the louser out into the blue of sky--;
trunk only, all enclosure,
tall and shivering,
a curve.
Medlar is fugitive,
killer of seed,
and when have blessing clefts of lighting
roared round my shaft,
disuniting,
casting far and wide
the thing oncetree?
Who ever saw a wood of poplars?
Individual,
restless at night and through the day
over the gardens' mignontetted
sweet deliquescence gaping wide
that sucks its roots and gnaws its bark
insignia of cries on its crowned brow it offers
dead space opposing,
to and fro.
Cartography
By: Louise Bogan
As you lay in sleep
I saw the chart
Of artery and vein
Running from your heart,
Plain as the strenth
Marked upon the leaf
Along the length,
Mortal and brief,
Of you gaunt hand.
I saw it clear:
The Wiry brand
Of the life we bear
Mapped like the graet
Rivers that rise
Beyond our fate
And distant from our eyes.
Ars Poetica
By: Archibald MacLeish
A poem should be palpable and mute
As a globed fruit
Dumb
As old medallions to the thumb
Silent as the sleeve-worn stone
Of casement ledges where the moss has grown--
A poem should be wordless
As the flight of birds
A poem should be motionless in time
As the moon climbs
Leaving, as the moon releases
Twig by twig the night-entagled trees,
Leaving, as the moon behind the winter
leaves,
Memory by memory the mind--
A poem should be equal to:
Not true
For all the history of grief
An empty doorway and a maple leaf
For love
The leaning grasses and two lights above the sea--
A poem should not mean
But be.
Primer Lesson
By: Carl Sandburg
Look out how you use proud words.
When you let proud words go, it is not
easy to call them back.
They wear long boots, hard goots;
they walk off proud; they can't
hear you calling---
Look out how you use prouds words.
'Tis The Last Rose Of Summer
By: Thomas Moore
'Tis the last rose of summer,
Left blooming alone,
All her lovely companions
Are faded and gone;
No flower of her kindred,
No rose-bud is nigh,
To reflect back her blushes,
Or give her sigh for sigh.
I'll not leave thee, thou lone one!
To pine on the stem;
Since the lovely are sleeping,
Go, sleep thou with them.
Thus kindly I scatter
They leaves o'er the bed
Where they mates of the garden
Lie scentless and dead.
So Soon may I follow,
When friendships decay,
And from Love's s hining circle
The gems drop away.
When true hearts lie withered,
And fond ones are flown,
O who would inhabit
This bleak world alone?
I am Lorelei le Fay Community Member 
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