Infoplease Editors' Blog

by Clement Wood

It is not Spring - not yet  -
But at East Schaghticoke I saw an ivory birch
Lifting a filmy red mantle of knotted buds
Above the rain-washed whiteness of her arms.

It is not Spring - not yet -
But at Hoosick Falls I saw a robin strutting...

complete...

by Ernest L. Thayer

The outlook wasn't brilliant
   for the Mudville nine that day;
 The score stood four to two,
   with but one inning more to play,
 And then when Cooney died at first,
   and Barrows did the same,
 A pall-like silence fell
   upon the patrons of the game.

complete...

by Robert Graves

I now delight
In spite
Of the might
And the right
Of classic tradition,
In writing
And reciting
Straight ahead,
Without let or omission...

complete...

 "Terence, this is stupid stuff:
You eat your victuals fast enough;
There can't be much amiss, 'tis clear,
To see the rate you drink your beer.
But oh, good Lord, the verse you make,
It gives a chap the belly-ache.

complete...

by Christina Rossetti

I tell my secret? No indeed, not I:
Perhaps some day, who knows?
But not to-day; it froze, and blows, and snows,
And you're too curious: fie!
You want to hear it? well:
Only, my secret's mine, and I won't tell.

complete...

by Amy Lowell

Who shall declare the joy of the running!
 Who shall tell of the pleasures of flight!
Springing and spurning the tufts of wild heather,
 Sweeping, wide-winged, through the blue dome of light.
Everything mortal has moments immortal,
 Swift and God-gifted, immeasurably bright.

complete...

by Carl Sandburg

I cannot tell you now;
   When the wind's drive and whirl
   Blow me along no longer,
   And the wind's a whisper at last —
Maybe I'll tell you then —
                            some other time.

complete...

by Morris Rosenfeld

I lift mine eyes against the sky,
The clouds are weeping, so am I;
I lift mine eyes again on high,
The sun is smiling, so am I.
Why do I smile?  Why do I weep?
I do not know; it lies too deep.

complete...

by Joyce Kilmer

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 flowing breast;

complete...