Poetry Corner
(an occasional poem from my personal favourites)
It sifts from leaden sieves
by Emily Dickinson
It sifts from leaden sieves,
It powders all the wood,
It fills with alabaster wool
The wrinkles of the road.
It makes an even face
Of mountain and of plain, —
Unbroken forehead from the east
Unto the east again.
It reaches to the fence,
It wraps it, rail by rail,
Till it is lost in fleeces;
It flings a crystal veil
On stump and stack and stem, —
The summer’s empty room,
Acres of seams where harvests were,
Recordless, but for them.
It ruffles wrists of posts,
As ankles of a queen, —
Then stills its artisans like ghosts,
Denying they have been.
Previous:
The Listeners - Walter de la Mare
The Way Through the Woods - Rudyard Kipling
A Forsaken Garden - Algernon Charles Swinburne
The Rider at the Gate - John Masefield
Meeting at Night - Robert Browning
In Flanders Fields - John McCrae
The Isle - Percy Bysshe Shelley
Love's Labour's Lost, Act V, Scene 2 (Winter) - William Shakespeare
little tree - E.E. Cummings
The Shortest Day - Susan Cooper
My Last Duchess - Robert Browning
The Elfin Artist - Alfred Noyes
Cargoes - John Masefield
The Splendour Falls - Alfred, Lord Tennyson
The Donkey - G. K. Chesterton
All in green went my love riding - E.E. Cummings
Arethusa - Percy Bysshe Shelley
The King's Breakfast - A.A. Milne
Jabberwocky - Lewis Carroll
The Loom of Years - Alfred Noyes
Now Winter Nights Enlarge - Thomas Campion