I like the little poems That hide in little books, Waiting for little snatches In little, cozy nooks. They mind me of the robins, With fragrant whiffs of song, Far dearer than Beethoven, -- But that is very wrong! Perhaps if life in ordered Continuance would run, Not now a bit of shadow And now a bit of sun, -- Perhaps I might, if living Were epic-long and wide, Care less for little poems In little books that hide. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...OVID, OLD BUDDY, I WOULD DISCOURSE WITH YOU A WHILE by HAYDEN CARRUTH HOOKS AND EYES by KAREN SWENSON TO CORINTH by WALTER SAVAGE LANDOR COLUMBUS DYING [MAY 20, 1506] by EDNA DEAN PROCTOR FOR A DEAD LADY by EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON THE SEVEN AGAINST THEBES: NEWS OF WAR by AESCHYLUS |