You are the moon, dear love, and I the sea: The tide of hope swells high within my breast, And hides the rough dark rocks of life’s unrest When your fond eyes smile near in perigee. But when that loving face is turned from me, Low falls the tide, and the grim rocks appear, And… Continue reading Ella Wheeler Wilcox
These are the days that must happen to you. — Walt Whitman, from “Song of the Open Road,” Leaves of Grass. Originally published: July 4, 1855.
I speak of new cities and new people. I tell you the past is a bucket of ashes. I tell you yesterday is a wind gone down, a sun dropped in the west. I tell you there is nothing in the world only an ocean of to-morrows, a sky of to-morrows. — Carl Sandburg, from… Continue reading Carl Sandburg
“When I was just as far as I could walk From here today, There was an hour All still When leaning with my head against a flower I heard you talk. Don’t say I didn’t, for I heard you say— You spoke from that flower on the window sill— Do you remember what it was… Continue reading Robert Frost
Ten thousand flowers in spring, the moon in autumn, a cool breeze in summer, snow in winter. If your mind isn’t clouded by unnecessary things, this is the best season of your life. —Wu Men, from The Enlightened Heart: An Anthology of Sacred Poetry. Translated by Stephen Mitchell (Harper and Row, 1989)
These days of only poems and depression— what can I do with them? Will they help me notice what I cannot bear to look at? — Robert Lowell, from “Notice,” Day by Day. (Farrar, Straus & Giroux; 1st edition August 1977)
I HAVE ransacked the encyclopedias And slid my fingers among topics and titles Looking for you. And the answer comes slow. There seems to be no answer. I shall ask the next banana peddler the who and the why of it. Or—the iceman with his… Continue reading Carl Sandburg