Tag: Poet
A word is dead
When it is said,
Some say.
I say it just
Begins to live
That day.
~Emily Dickinson, “A Word is Dead
No spring nor summer’s beauty hath such grace
As I have seen in one Autumnal face….
~John Donne, “Elegy IX: The Autumnal”
“Fear was the first thing on Earth to create gods.”
– Lucretius
“As for me, I know nothing else but miracles,
Whether I walk the streets of Manhattan,
Or dart my sight over the roofs of houses toward the sky,
Or wade with naked feet along the beach just in the edge of the water,
Or stand under the trees in the woods,
Or talk by day with any one I love,
Or sleep in bed at night with any one I love,
Or watch honey bees busy around the hive of a summer forenoon…
Or the wonderfulness of the sundown,
Or of stars shining so quiet and bright,
Or the exquisite delicate thin curve of the new moon in spring…
What stranger miracles are there?”
– Walt Whitman
“Lilacs, False Blue, White, Purple,
Colour of lilac,
Your great puffs of flowers
Are everywhere in this my New England …
Lilacs in dooryards
Holding quiet conversation with an early moon;
Lilacs watching a deserted house; …
Lilacs, wind-beaten, staggering under a lopsided shock of bloom,
You are everywhere.”
– Amy Lowell
