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Classic and Contemporary Poetry
MY POET, by ALICE CARY Poet Analysis Poet's Biography First Line: Ah, could I my poet only draw Last Line: In his dreams a fairer sight. Subject(s): Poetry & Poets | |||
AH, could I my poet only draw In lines of a living light, You would say that Shakespeare never saw In his dreams a fairer sight. Along the bright crisp grass where by A beautiful water lay, We walked -- my fancies and I -- One morn in the early May. And there, betwixt the water sweet And the gay and grassy land, I found the print of two little feet Upon the silvery sand. These following, and following on, Allured by the place and time, I, all of a sudden, came upon This poet of my rhyme. Betwixt my hands I longed to take His two cheeks brown with tan, To kiss him for my true love's sake, And call him a little man. A rustic of the rustics he, By every look and sign, And I knew, when he turned his face to me, 'T was his spirit made him fine. His ignorance he had sweetly turned Into uses passing words: He had cut a pipe of corn, and learned Thereon to talk to the birds. And now it was the bluebird's trill, Now the blackbird on the thorn, Now a speckle-breast, or tawny-bill That answered his pipe of corn, And now, though he turned him north and south, And called upon bird by bird, There was never a little golden mouth Would answer him back a word. For all, from the red-bird bold and gay, To the linnet dull and plain, Had fallen on beds of the leafy spray, To listen in envious pain. "Ah, do as you like, my golden quill;" So he said, for his wise share; "And the same to you, my tawny-bill, There are pleasures everywhere." Then his heart fell in him dancing so, It spun to his cheek the red, As he spied himself in the wave below A-standing on his head. Ah, could I but this picture draw, Thus glad by his nature's right, You would say that Shakespeare never saw In his dreams a fairer sight. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ENVY OF OTHER PEOPLE'S POEMS by ROBERT HASS THE NINETEENTH CENTURY AS A SONG by ROBERT HASS THE FATALIST: TIME IS FILLED by LYN HEJINIAN OXOTA: A SHORT RUSSIAN NOVEL: CHAPTER 192 by LYN HEJINIAN LET ME TELL YOU WHAT A POEM BRINGS by JUAN FELIPE HERRERA JUNE JOURNALS 6/25/88 by JUAN FELIPE HERRERA FOLLOW ROZEWICZ by JUAN FELIPE HERRERA HAVING INTENDED TO MERELY PICK ON AN OIL COMPANY, THE POEM GOES AWRY by HICOK. BOB A SPINSTER'S STINT by ALICE CARY |
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