INVENT POEMS
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Auguries Of Innocence
To see a world in a grain of sand
And a heaven in a wild flower,
Hold infinity in the palm of your hand
And eternity in an hour.
.....
William Blake
A Plea
Why need we newer arms invent,
Poor peoples to destroy?
With what we have let's be content
And perfect their employ.
.....
Robert Service
The Rewards Of Industry
A FRIEND of mine said yesterday: 'There goes a man across the way
Who paid ten thousand dollars for a home a week ago;
He owns an automobile now, a saddle horse and keeps a cow,
And smokes cigars at fifty cents a throw.
.....
Edgar Albert Guest
The Suicide's Argument
Ere the birth of my life, if I wished it or no
No question was asked me--it could not be so !
If the life was the question, a thing sent to try
And to live on be YES; what can NO be ? to die.
.....
Samuel Taylor Coleridge
Admetus
To my friend, Ralph Waldo Emerson.
He who could beard the lion in his lair,
.....
Emma Lazarus
Dear Lorca
Dear Lorca,
These letters are to be as temporary as our poetry is to be permanent. They will establish the bulk, the wastage that my sour-stomached contemporaries demand to help them swallow and digest the pure word. We will use up our rhetoric here so that it will not appear in our poems. Let it be consumed paragraph by paragraph, day by day, until nothing of it is left in our poetry and nothing of our poetry is left in it. It is precisely because these letters are unnecessary that they must be written.
In my last letter I spoke of the tradition. The fools that read these letters will think by this we mean what tradition seems to have meant latelyâ??an historical patchwork (whether made up of Elizabethan quotations, guide books of the poetâ??s home town, or obscure bits of magic published by Pantheon) which is used to cover up the nakedness of the bare word. Tradition means much more than that. It means generations of different poets in different countries patiently telling the same story, writing the same poem, gaining and losing something with each transformationâ??but, of course, never really losing anything. This has nothing to do with calmness, classicism, temperament, or anything else. Invention is merely the enemy of poetry.
.....
Jack Spicer
The Will
Before I sigh my last gasp, let me breathe,
Great Love, some legacies ; I here bequeath
Mine eyes to Argus, if mine eyes can see ;
If they be blind, then, Love, I give them thee ;
.....
John Donne
The Legacy
My dearest Love! when thou and I must part,
And th' icy hand of death shall seize that heart
Which is all thine; within some spacious will
Ile leave no blanks for Legacies to fill:
.....
Henry King
Truth
Man, on the dubious waves of error toss'd,
His ship half founder'd, and his compass lost,
Sees, far as human optics may command,
A sleeping fog, and fancies it dry land;
.....
William Cowper
The May Night
MUSE.
Give me a kiss, my poet, take thy lyre;
The buds are bursting on the wild sweet-briar.
To-night the Spring is born-the breeze takes fire.
.....
Emma Lazarus
Magpiety
The same and not quite the same, I walked through oak forests
Amazed that my Muse, Mnemosyne,
Has in no way diminished my amazement.
A magpie was screeching and I said: Magpiety?
.....
Czeslaw Milosz
The Padlock
I triumphed, love's victorious power
Prevailed, and near approached the hour
Which should have crowned our mutual flame,
Just then your tyrant husband came.
.....
Voltaire
Lamia
Part 1
Upon a time, before the faery broods
Drove Nymph and Satyr from the prosperous woods,
.....
John Keats
Lancelot
Gawaine, aware again of Lancelot
In the Kingâ??s garden, coughed and followed him;
Whereat he turned and stood with folded arms
And weary-waiting eyes, cold and half-closedâ??
.....
Edwin Arlington Robinson
Friendship
Friend!--the Great Ruler, easily content,
Needs not the laws it has laborious been
The task of small professors to invent;
A single wheel impels the whole machine
.....
Friedrich Schiller
Ode To Salvador Dali
A rose in the high garden you desire.
A wheel in the pure syntax of steel.
The mountain stripped bare of Impressionist fog,
The grays watching over the last balustrades.
.....
Federico Garcàa Lorca
Beer
1 In those old days which poets say were golden --
2 (Perhaps they laid the gilding on themselves:
3 And, if they did, I'm all the more beholden
4 To those brown dwellers in my dusty shelves,
.....
Charles Stuart Calverley
Dear Keats
Already six years past your age!
The steps in Rome,
the house near Hampstead Heath,
& all your fears
.....
Erica Jong
Very Like A Whale
One thing that literature would be greatly the better for
Would be a more restricted employment by the authors of simile and
metaphor.
Authors of all races, be they Greeks, Romans, Teutons or Celts,
.....
Ogden Nash
From 'the Motto'
And first, that no man else may censure me
For vaunting what belongeth not to me,
Heare what I have not, for Tie not deny
To make confession of my poverty.
.....
George Wither
Mac Flecknoe
All human things are subject to decay,
And, when Fate summons, monarchs must obey:
This Flecknoe found, who, like Augustus, young
Was call'd to empire, and had govern'd long:
.....
John Dryden
An Essay On Criticism
'Tis hard to say, if greater Want of Skill
Appear in Writing or in Judging ill,
But, of the two, less dang'rous is th' Offence,
To tire our Patience, than mis-lead our Sense:
.....
Alexander Pope
Metamorphoses: Book 06
Pallas, attending to the Muse's song,
Approv'd the just resentment of their wrong;
And thus reflects: While tamely I commend
Those who their injur'd deities defend,
.....
Ovid
Paradise Lost: Book 06
All night the dreadless Angel, unpursued,
Through Heaven's wide champain held his way; till Morn,
Waked by the circling Hours, with rosy hand
Unbarred the gates of light. There is a cave
.....
John Milton
Lancelot 01
Gawaine, aware again of Lancelot
In the King's garden, coughed and followed him;
Whereat he turned and stood with folded arms
And weary-waiting eyes, cold and half-closed-
.....
Edwin Arlington Robinson
Landfall
The lake placid: how many times have
I watched it pitch out there? Isolated,
a perfection in its slow moving glacis.
.....
Roland John
Sonnet Lxxix
Whilst I alone did call upon thy aid,
My verse alone had all thy gentle grace,
But now my gracious numbers are decay'd
And my sick Muse doth give another place.
.....
William Shakespeare
Lesbos
Mère des jeux latins et des voluptés grecques,
Lesbos, où les baisers, languissants ou joyeux,
Chauds comme les soleils, frais comme les pastèques,
Font l'ornement des nuits et des jours glorieux,
.....
Charles Baudelaire