In Medias Res By William Stafford On Main one night when they sounded the chimes my father was ahead in shadows, my son behind coming into the streetlight, on each side a brother and a sister; and overhead the chimes…
Category: Poem Analysis
In Exile
In Exile By Emma Lazarus “Since that day till now our life is one unbroken paradise. We live a true brotherly life. Every evening after supper we take a seat under the mighty oak and sing our songs.” —Extract from…
I Higaonon
I Higaonon By Telesfore Sungki Jr. I you called pagan, you say pagan is bad people. You say you is Christian and Christian is good people. You laugh I kneel on big rock or I pray before big tree. You…
I Do Not Love Thee
I Do Not Love Thee By Caroline Elizabeth Sarah Norton I do not love thee!—no! I do not love thee! And yet when thou art absent I am sad; And envy even the bright blue sky above thee, Whose quiet…
Gentling A Wildcat
Gentling A Wildcat By Douglas Livingstone Not much wild life, roared Mine leonine Host from the fringe of a forest of crackles round an old dome-headed steam radio, between hotel and river – a mile of bush – except for…
Futility
Futility By Wilfred Owen Move him into the sun— Gently its touch awoke him once, At home, whispering of fields half-sown. Always it woke him, even in France, Until this morning and this snow. If anything might rouse him now…
Ellis Island
Ellis Island By Joyce Hemsley In days of long ago, how did Europeans enter America? I read the history and now I know. They arrived at Ellis Island at the mouth of the Hudson River often on a sunny day, but…
The Mountain Graveyard
The Mountain Graveyard By John H. Bryant I know a hill with a breast of flowers Where the swallows play in the summer hours, Where the grasshopper chirps and the wild bee hums, And the low of the kine on…
Old Man Travelling
Old Man Travelling By William Wordsworth He little hedge-row birds, That peck along the road, regard him not. He travels on, and in his face, his step, His gait, is one expression; every limb, His look and bending figure, all…
On His Blindness
On His Blindness By John Milton When I consider how my light is spent Ere half my days in this dark world and wide, And that one talent which is death to hide Lodg’d with me useless, though my soul…
Laura
Laura By Petrarch Translated by Pierre F. Goodrich Again with gladsome feet Zephyr returns Mid grass and flowers, his goodly family And Procne chatters, Philomela mourns, While Spring comes forth in all her finery. The meadows laugh; the skies are…
Kicking the Habit
Kicking the Habit By Lawson Fusao Inada Late last night, I decided to stop using English. I had been using it all day – taking all day, listening all day, thinking all day, reading all day, remembering all day, feeling…
Jimmy Jet and His TV Set
Jimmy Jet and His TV Set By Shel Silverstein I’ll tell you the story of Jimmy Jet — And you know what I tell you is true. He loved to watch his TV set Almost as much as you. He…
Lammas Hireling
Lammas Hireling By Ian Duhig After the fair, I’d still a light heart and a heavy purse, he struck so cheap. And cattle doted on him: in his time mine only dropped heifers, fat as cream. Yields doubled. I grew…
January
January By John Updike The days are short, The sun a spark, Hung thin between The dark and dark. Fat snowy footsteps Track the floor. Milk bottles burst Outside the door. The river is A frozen place Held still beneath…
First Love
First Love By John Clare I ne’er was struck before that hour With love so sudden and so sweet, Her face it bloomed like a sweet flower And stole my heart away complete. My face turned pale as deadly pale,…
Bread
Bread By Kamau Brathwaite Slowly the white dream wrestle(s) to life hands shaping the salt and the foreign cornfields the cold flesh kneaded by fingers is ready for the charcoal for the black wife of heat the years of green…
Eden Rock
Eden Rock By Charles Causley They are waiting for me somewhere beyond Eden Rock: My father, twenty-five, in the same suit Of Genuine Irish Tweed, his terrier Jack Still two years old and trembling at his feet. My mother, twenty-three,…
Follower
Follower By Seamus Heaney My father worked with a horse-plough, His shoulders globed like a full sail strung Between the shafts and the furrow. The horses strained at his clicking tongue. An expert. He would set the wing And fit…
Five O’Clock Shadow
Five O’Clock Shadow By John Betjeman This is the time of day when we in the Men’s ward Think “one more surge of the pain and I give up the fight.” When he who struggles for breath can struggle less…