“Trees” by Joyce Kilmer
Trees I think that I shall never see A poem lovely as a tree. A tree whose hungry mouth is prest Against the earth’s sweet…
Continue reading →Trees I think that I shall never see A poem lovely as a tree. A tree whose hungry mouth is prest Against the earth’s sweet…
Continue reading →The Moving Finger Writes 51The Moving Finger writes; and, having writ, Moves on: nor all thy Piety nor Wit Shall lure it back to cancel…
Continue reading →Self Pity I never saw a wild thing sorry for itself. A small bird will drop frozen dead from a bough without ever having felt…
Continue reading →Facing It My black face fades, hiding inside the black granite. I said I wouldn’t dammit: No tears. I’m stone. I’m flesh. My clouded reflection…
Continue reading →Epitaph When I die Give what’s left of me away To children And old men that wait to die. And if you need to cry,…
Continue reading →Lord, make me an instrument of your peace: where there is hatred, let me sow love; where there is injury, pardon; where there is doubt,…
Continue reading →Out beyond ideas of wrongdoing and rightdoing,There is a field. I’ll meet you there.When the soul lies down in that grass,The world is too full…
Continue reading →She came among us like a wild creature fresh from the forest, wearing a tunic of green, wreath of flowers in her hair. Orpheus returned,…
Continue reading →Mullah, let rip Your glorious call to prayer. You are yourself a mosque With ten doors. Make your mind your Mecca, Make your Kaaba your…
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