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

Into the Twilight

Out-worn heart, in a time out-worn, Come clear of the nets of wrong and right; Laugh, heart, again in the grey twilight, Sigh, heart, again in...

By W. B. Yeats
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19 September

The Solitary Reaper

BEHOLD her, single in the field, Yon solitary Highland Lass! Reaping and singing by herself; Stop here, or gently pass! Alone she cuts and binds the grain, And sings a melancholy...

By William Wordsworth
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17 September

The Bait

COME live with me, and be my love, And we will some new pleasures prove Of golden sands, and crystal brooks, With silken lines and silver hooks. There will the...

By John Donne
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15 September

To You

WHOEVER you are, I fear you are walking the walks of dreams, I fear these supposed realities are to melt from under your feet and hands; Even now,...

By Walt Whitman
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14 September

since feeling is first

since feeling is first who pays any attention to the syntax of things will never wholly kiss you; wholly to be a fool while Spring is in the world my blood approves, and...

By E. E. Cummings
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12 September

A Dream of Death

I dreamed that one had died in a strange place Near no accustomed hand; And they had nailed the boards above her face, The peasants of that land, Wondering to...

By W. B. Yeats
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11 September


SOFTLY, in the dusk, a woman is singing to me; Taking me back down the vista of years, till I see A child sitting under the piano, in...

By D. H. Lawrence
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10 September