The experience of each new age requires a new confession, and the world seems always waiting for its poet.

Threnody (Fragments)

The south-wind brings Life, sunshine, and desire, And on every mount and meadow Breathes aromatic fire, But over the dead he has no power, The lost, the lost he cannot restore, And,...

By Ralph Waldo Emerson
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03 January

The Subverted Flower

She drew back; he was calm: "It is this that had the power." And he lashed his open palm With the tender-headed flower. He smiled for her to smile, But she...

By Robert Frost
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02 January

I Am

I am—yet what I am none cares or knows; My friends forsake me like a memory lost: I am the self-consumer of my woes— They rise and vanish in...

By John Clare
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31 December

A Brown Girl Dead

With two white roses on her breasts, White candles at head and feet, Dark Madonna of the grave she rests; Lord Death has found her sweet.Her mother pawned her...

By Countee Cullen
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29 December

The Giant Oak

And then the sound of marching armies 'woke Amid the branches of the soldier oak, And tempests ceased their warring cry, and dumb The lashing storms that muttered, overcome, Choked...

By Emily Pauline Johnson
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28 December

Boy at the Window

Seeing the snowman standing all alone In dusk and cold is more than he can bear. The small boy weeps to hear the wind prepare A night of gnashings...

By Richard Wilbur
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27 December

An Old Man

At the noisy end of the cafe, head bent over the table, an old man sits alone, a newspaper in front of him.And in the miserable banality of...

By C.P. Cavafy
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25 December

Funeral Blues

Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone, Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone, Silence the pianos and with muffled drum Bring out the coffin, let...

By W. H. Auden
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24 December