Dictionary Poems

I am the Cannon King, behold!I perish on a throne of gold.With forest far and turret high,Renowned and rajah-rich am I.My father was, and his before,With wealth we owe to war on war;But let no potentate be proud . . .There are no pockets in a shroud. By nature I am mild and kind,To gentleness … Continued

Time, the Jester, jeers at you;Your life’s a fleeting breath;Your birthday’s flimsy I.O.U.To that old devil, Death.And though to glory you attain,Or be to beauty born,Your pomp and vanity are vain:Time ticks you off with scorn. Time, the Cynic, sneers at you,And stays you in your stride;He flouts the daring deeds you do,And pillories your … Continued

No labor-saving machine,Nor discovery have I made,Nor will I be able to leave behind me any wealthy bequest to found hospital or library,Nor reminiscence of any deed of courage for America,Nor literary success nor intellect; nor book for the book-shelf,But a few carols vibrating through the air I leave,For comrades and lovers. – No Labor-Saving … Continued

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 do not understand! While simple-hearted neighbors Chat of the ‘early dead,’We, prone to periphrasis, Remark that birds … Continued

The grave my little cottage is, Where, keeping house for thee,I make my parlor orderly, And lay the marble tea, For two divided, briefly, A cycle, it may be,Till everlasting life unite In strong society. – The grave my little cottage is by Emily Dickinson

Never seek to tell thy love,Love that never told can be;For the gentle wind does moveSilently, invisibly.I told my love, I told my love,I told her all my heart;Trembling, cold, in ghastly fears,Ah! she doth depart. Soon as she was gone from me,A traveller came by,Silently, invisibly:He took her with a sigh. – Never seek … Continued

I walked in a half-mown flowering meadow by the sea’s-Edge of the grass, where yesterday the mower went.Bloomy and purple as clover were the fog-grass and bent;The field so wide, it broke on misty boundaries. The stubble and mown hay were fresh like tidal sandWhen at low tide I walked by that standing lake-waved sea;The … Continued

THROUGH winter-time we call on spring,And through the spring on summer call,And when abounding hedges ringDeclare that winter’s best of all;And after that there s nothing goodBecause the spring-time has not come —Nor know that what disturbs our bloodIs but its longing for the tomb. – The Wheel by William Butler Yeats

As vain to raise a voice as a sighIn the tumult of free leaves on high.What are you in the shadow of treesEngaged up there with the light and breeze? Less than the coral-root you knowThat is content with the daylight low,And has no leaves at all of its own;Whose spotted flowers hang meanly down. … Continued

Now fades the last long streak of snow,Now burgeons every maze of quickAbout the flowering squares, and thickBy ashen roots the violets blow. Now rings the woodland loud and long,The distance takes a lovelier hue,And drowned in yonder living blueThe lark becomes a sightless song. Now dance the lights on lawn and lea,The flocks are … Continued