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Selected Poems
The classic volume by the distinguished modern poet, winner of the 1950 Pulitzer Prize, and recipient of the National Book Foundation Medal for Distinguished Contribution to American Letters, showcases an esteemed artist's technical mastery, her warm h
I will be your poet, I will be more to you than to any of the rest.
I seem to have loved you in numberless forms, numberless times… In life after life, in age after age, forever.
i like my body when it is with your body. It is so quite new a thing. Muscles better and nerves more. i like your body. i like what it does, i like its hows. i like to feel the spine of your body and its bones, and the trembling -firm-smooth ness and which i will again and again and again kiss, i li…
Death, like a host, comes smiling to the door; Smiling, he greets us, on that tranquil shore Where neither piping bird nor peeping dawn Disturbs the eternal sleep, But in the stillness far withdrawn Our dreamless rest for evermore we keep.
Under the wide and starry sky Dig the grave and let me lie: Glad did I live and gladly die, And I laid me down with a will. This be the verse you grave for me: Here he lies where he long'd to be; Home is the sailor, home from the sea, And the hunter home from the hill.
Deserve your dream.
Spring has come round again, and the Earth is like a child who is brimming with poems.
Well, now If little by little you stop loving me I shall stop loving you Little by little If suddenly you forget me Do not look for me For I shall already have forgotten you.
Love is the voice under all silences, the hope which has no opposite in fear; the strength so strong mere force is feebleness: the truth more first than sun, more last than star.
somewhere i have never travelled, gladly beyond any experience, your eyes have their silence: in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me, or which i cannot touch because they are too near
(existing's tricky:but to live's a gift)
along the brittle treacherous bright streets of memory comes my heart,singing like an idiot, whispering like a drunken man
and what I want to know is how do you like your blue-eyed boy
i charge laughing. Into the hair-thin tints of yellow dawn, into the women-coloured twilight
(and from my thighs which shrug and pant a murdering rain leapingly reaches the upward singular deepest flower which she carries in a gesture of her hips)
i fear no fate(for you are my fate,my sweet)i want no world(for beautiful you are my world,my true) and it's you are whatever a moon has always meant and whatever a sun will always sing is you here is the deepest secret nobody knows
in the street of the sky night walks scattering poems
love is a deeper season than reason; my sweet one
the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses