Poetry

For My Poems, Written So Early For my poems, written so early That I didn’t even know I was a poet, Hurled like drops from a fountain, Like sparks from rockets, That burst like tiny ...

The Stalin Epigram Our lives no longer feel ground under them. At ten paces you can’t hear our words. But whenever there’s a snatch of talk it turns to the Kremlin mountaineer, the ten thick ...

The Tram That Lost Its Way I walked an unfamiliar street And suddenly heard a raven’s cry, And the sound of a lute, and distant thunder,— In front of me a tram was flying. How ...

Silence There are some qualities—some incorporate things, That have a double life, which thus is made A type of that twin entity which springs From matter and light, evinced in solid and shade. There is ...

A Winter’s Night When biting Boreas, fell and doure, Sharp shivers thro’ the leafless bow’r; When Phoebus gies a short-liv’d glow’r, Far south the lift, Dim-dark’ning thro’ the flaky show’r, Or whirling drift: Ae night ...