When I have fears: poem of the day

When I have Fears That I May Cease to Be BY JOHN KEATS When I have fears that I may cease to be Before my pen has gleaned my teeming brain,Before high-pilèd books, in charactery, Hold like rich garners the full ripened grain;When I behold, upon the night’s starred face, Huge cloudy symbols of a

The human seasons: poem of the day

The Human SeasonsBY JOHN KEATS Four Seasons fill the measure of the year; There are four seasons in the mind of man:He has his lusty Spring, when fancy clear Takes in all beauty with an easy span:He has his Summer, when luxuriously Spring’s honied cud of youthful thought he lovesTo ruminate, and by such dreaming

Here I love you: poem of the day

Here I Love YouBy Pablo Neruda Here I love youIn the dark pines the wind disentangles itself.The moon glows like phosphorous on the vagrant watersDays, all one kind, go chasing each other The snow unfurls in dancing figures.A silver gull slips down from the west.sometimes a sail. High, high stars. Oh the black cross of

A noiseless spider: poem of the day

A Noiseless Patient SpiderBY WALT WHITMAN A noiseless patient spider,I mark’d where on a little promontory it stood isolated,Mark’d how to explore the vacant vast surrounding,It launch’d forth filament, filament, filament, out of itself,Ever unreeling them, ever tirelessly speeding them. And you O my soul where you stand,Surrounded, detached, in measureless oceans of space,Ceaselessly musing,

The rainy day: poem of the day

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September 1913: poem of the day

September 1913BY WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS What need you, being come to sense,But fumble in a greasy tillAnd add the halfpence to the penceAnd prayer to shivering prayer, untilYou have dried the marrow from the bone;For men were born to pray and save:Romantic Ireland’s dead and gone,It’s with O’Leary in the grave.Yet they were of a

The city of sleep: poem of the day

THE CITY OF SLEEP BY RUDYARD KIPLING Over the edge of the purple down, Where the single lamplight gleams,Know ye the road to the Merciful Town That is hard by the Sea of Dreams –Where the poor may lay their wrongs away, And the sick may forget to weep?But we – pity us! Oh, pity

The saddest poem: poem of the day

THE SADDEST POEMBy Pablo Neruda I can write the saddest poem of all tonight.Write, for instance: “The night is full of stars,and the stars, blue, shiver in the distance.”The night wind whirls in the sky and sings.I can write the saddest poem of all tonight.I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too.On nights like

September Midnight : poem of the day

September MidnightBY SARA TEASDALE Lyric night of the lingering Indian Summer,Shadowy fields that are scentless but full of singing,Never a bird, but the passionless chant of insects,Ceaseless, insistent.The grasshopper’s horn, and far-off, high in the maples,The wheel of a locust leisurely grinding the silenceUnder a moon waning and worn, broken,Tired with summer.Let me remember you,

The city of sleep: poem of the day

The City of SleepBY RUDYARD KIPLING Over the edge of the purple down, Where the single lamplight gleams,Know ye the road to the Merciful Town That is hard by the Sea of Dreams –Where the poor may lay their wrongs away, And the sick may forget to weep?But we – pity us! Oh, pity us!