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These are some of my favorite poems from well known poets |
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THE DAISY FOLLOWS SOFT THE SUN
by: Emily Dickinson (1830-1886)
THE daisy follows soft the sun, And when his golden walk is done, Sits shyly at his feet. He, waking, finds the flower near. "Wherefore, marauder, art thou here?" "Because, sir, love is sweet!" We are the flower, Thou the sun! Forgive us, if as days decline, We nearer steal to Thee,-- Enamoured of the parting west, The peace, the flight, the amethyst, Night's possibility! |
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ALONE
by: Edgar Allan Poe (1809-1849)
From childhood's hour I have not been As others were; I have not seen As others saw; I could not bring My passions from a common spring. From the same source I have not taken My sorrow; I could not awaken My heart to joy at the same tone; And all I loved, I loved alone. Then--in my childhood, in the dawn Of a most stormy life--was drawn From every depth of good and ill The mystery which binds me still: From the torrent, or the fountain, From the red cliff of the mountain, From the sun that round me rolled In its autumn tint of gold, From the lightning in the sky As it passed me flying by, From the thunder and the storm, And the cloud that took the form (When the rest of Heaven was blue) Of a demon in my view. |
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Emily Dickinson - "Why do I love" You, Sir?
"Why do I love" You, Sir? Because -- The Wind does not require the Grass To answer -- Wherefore when He pass She cannot keep Her place. Because He knows -- and Do not You -- And We know not -- Enough for Us The Wisdom it be so -- The Lightning -- never asked an Eye Wherefore it shut -- when He was by -- Because He knows it cannot speak -- And reasons not contained -- -- Of Talk -- There be -- preferred by Daintier Folk -- The Sunrise -- Sire -- compelleth Me -- Because He's Sunrise -- and I see -- Therefore -- Then -- I love Thee -- |
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LOVE SONG (from "Cyclops")
by: Euripides
ONE with eyes the fairest Cometh from his dwelling, Some one loves thee, rarest, Bright beyond my telling. In thy grace thou shinest Like some nymph divinest, In her caverns dewy:-- All delights pursue thee, Soon pied flowers, sweet-breathing, Shall thy head be wreathing. |
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Emily Dickinson - Is it too late to touch you, Dear? (1637)
Is it too late to touch you, Dear? We this moment knew -- Love Marine and Love terrene -- Love celestial too -- |
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