To Kathleen
STILL must the poet as of old,
In barren attic bleak and cold,
Starve, freeze, and fashion verses to
Such things as flowers and song and you;
Still as of old his being give
In Beauty’s name, while she may live,
Beauty that may not die as long
As there are flowers and you and song.
Similar poems:
- Oh, Ye Dead! Oh, ye Dead! oh, ye Dead! whom we know by the light you give From your cold gleaming eyes, though...
- Kathleen It was the steamer Alice May that sailed the Yukon foam. And touched in every river camp from Dawson down...
- Sonnet 17: Who will believe my verse in time to come Who will believe my verse in time to come If it were filled with your most high deserts? Though yet...
- Sonnet XVII Who will believe my verse in time to come, If it were fill’d with your most high deserts? Though yet,...
- Drink To Her Drink to her who long Hath waked the poet’s sigh, The girl who gave to song What gold could never...
- Thoughts of Li Po from the World’s End Here at the world’s end the cold winds are beginning to blow. What messages Have you for me, my master?...
- O Do Not Love Too Long Sweetheart, do not love too long: I loved long and long, And grew to be out of fashion Like an...
- The Poet Words flow onto paper like rain, forming giant rivers Of unseen lands. The very force guides us along a journey...
- The Poet And The Bird Said a people to a poet -” Go out from among us straightway! While we are thinking earthly things, thou...
- Holy Thursday (Experience) Is this a holy thing to see. In a rich and fruitful land. Babes reduced to misery. Fed with cold...
- Sonnet 79: Whilst I alone did call upon thy aid Whilst I alone did call upon thy aid, My verse alone had all thy gentle grace, But now my gracious...
- Sonnet LXXIX Whilst I alone did call upon thy aid, My verse alone had all thy gentle grace, But now my gracious...
- To Autumn O Autumn, laden with fruit, and stain’d With the blood of the grape, pass not, but sit Beneath my shady...
- Envoi Go, dumb-born book, Tell her that sang me once that song of Lawes: Hadst thou but song As thou hast...
- America, America! I am a poet of the Hudson River and the heights above it, the lights, the stars, and the bridges...
- Chiarascuro: Rose He Fill your bowl with roses: the bowl, too, have of crystal. Sit at the western window. Take the sun...
- Sonnet 68: Thus is his cheek the map of days outworn Thus is his cheek the map of days outworn, When beauty lived and died as flowers do now, Before these...
- Sonnet LXVII Thus is his cheek the map of days outworn, When beauty lived and died as flowers do now, Before the...
- A Fountain, a Bottle, a Donkey’s Ears, and Some Books Old Davis owned a solid mica mountain In Dalton that would someday make his fortune. There’d been some Boston people...
- Sonnet VI: How Many Paltry Things How many paltry, foolish, painted things, That now is coaches trouble every street, Shall be forgotten, whom no Poet sings,...