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The Cyclists by Amy Lowell.
Spread on the roadway,With open-blown jackets,Like black, soaring pinions,They swoop down the hillside,The Cyclists.Seeming dark-plumagedBirds, after carrion,Careening and circling,Over the dyingOf England.She lies with her bosomBeneath them, no longerThe Dominant ... More poems about
Amy Lowell.
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The Great Figure by William Carlos Williams.
Among the rainand lightsI saw the figure 5in goldon a redfiretruckmovingtenseunheededto gong clangssiren howlsand wheels rumblingthrough the dark city. More poems about
William Carlos Williams.
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On The Building Of Springfield by Vachel Lindsay.
Let not our town be large, remembering That little Athens was the Muses' home, That Oxford rules the heart of London still, That Florence gave the Renaissance to Rome. Record ... More poems about
Vachel Lindsay.
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Lain In Nature So Suffice Us by Emily Dickinson.
Lain in Nature -- so suffice usThe enchantless PodWhen we advertise existenceFor the missing Seed --Maddest Heart that God createdCannot move a sodPasted by the simple summerOn the Longed for ... More poems about
Emily Dickinson.
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Face Lift by Sylvia Plath.
You bring me good news from the clinic,Whipping off your silk scarf, exhibiting the tight whiteMummy-cloths, smiling: I'm all right.When I was nine, a lime-green anesthetistFed me banana-gas through a ... More poems about
Sylvia Plath.
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How Happy Is The Little Stone by Emily Dickinson.
How happy is the little StoneThat rambles in the Road alone,And doesn't care about CareersAnd Exigencies never fears --Whose Coat of elemental BrownA passing Universe put on,And independent as the ... More poems about
Emily Dickinson.
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Becoming Part Of The Earth by Raymond A Foss.
Returning from whence it grewthe scaled cap of last year’s acornbecoming part of the dirt, the soilthe earth at the base of the mighty oakbecoming silted by the groundslowly being ... More poems about
Raymond A Foss.
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Slants At Buffalo, New York by Carl Sandburg.
A FOREFINGER of stone, dreamed by a sculptor, points to the sky.It says: This way! this way! Four lions snore in stone at the corner of the shaft.They too are ... More poems about
Carl Sandburg.
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TO DEATH by Robert Herrick.
Thou bidst me come away,And I'll no longer stay,Than for to shed some tearsFor faults of former years;And to repent some crimesDone in the present times;And next, to take a ... More poems about
Robert Herrick.
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Lovest Thou Me? by William Cowper.
(John, xxi.16)Hark my soul! it is the Lord;'Tis Thy Saviour, hear His word;Jesus speaks and speaks to thee,"Say poor sinner, lovst thou me?"I deliver'd thee when bound,And when bleeding, heal'd ... More poems about
William Cowper.
