
Looking into History By Richard Wilbur - Giggle Poems
I try Like orphaned Hamlet working up his grief To see my spellbound fathers in these men Who, breathless in their amber atmosphere, Show but the post ...
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I try Like orphaned Hamlet working up his grief To see my spellbound fathers in these men Who, breathless in their amber atmosphere, Show but the post ...
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Ask us, ask us whether with the worldless rose Our hearts shall fail us; come demanding Whether there shall be lofty or long standing When the bronze ...
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After the clash of elevator gates And the long sinking, she emerges where, A slight thing in the morning’s crosstown glare, She looks up toward the wi ...
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I want to be free of poetry's ornaments, its duty, free of constant irritation, me in it, what was grander reason for being? ‘While frank and free/cal ...
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I wore a garland of the briar that put me now in awe I wore a garland of the brain that was whole It commanded me, done babbling And I no more blab ...
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I wonder Then realize I’m not the only person who’s considered in the grand scope of daily living There are those fast asleep who want to be and would ...
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I liked my playmates, and knew well, Whence all their parents came; From England, Scotland, royal France From Germany and oft by chance The humble Eme ...
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Each morning I made my way among gangways, elevators, and nurses’ pods to Jane’s room to interrogate the grave helpers who tended her through the nigh ...
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Between pond and sheepbarn, by maples and watery birches, Rebecca paces a double line of rust in a sandy trench, striding on black creosoted eight-by- ...
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Then two young men, who cooked him, carry him to the table on a large square of plywood: his body striped, like a tiger cat’s, from the basting, his l ...
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Past the empty bins for squash, apples, carrots, and potatoes, we discover the shelves for canning, a few pale pints of tomato left, and—what is this? ...
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In the steamer is the trout??? seasoned with slivers of ginger, two sprigs of green onion, and sesame oil.??? We shall eat it with rice for lunch,??? ...
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Dew: I’ve forgotten. Naked: I’ve forgotten. Wrens are small, plain birds, yarn is what one knits with. Knowing it wasn’t ripe or sweet, I didn’t eat b ...
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To pull the metal splinter from my palm my father recited a story in a low voice. I was seven when my father took my hand like this, and I did not hol ...
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I speak this poem now with grave and level voice In praise of autumn, of the far-horn-winding fall.
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The star dissolved in evening—the one star The silently and night O soon now, soon And still the light now and still now the large Relinquishing and t ...
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The tip I left For the waitress filters down Like rain, wetting the new roots of a child Perhaps, a belligerent cat that won’t let go Of a balled sock ...
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(Tell me your dreams, O sailors: Tell me, in sleep did you climb The tall masts, and before you—) At night the stillness of old trees Is a leaning ove ...
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“It’s a ’49,” Rhinehardt said, and slammed The screen door, then worked his way around The dog turds in the yard To the Buick gutted from fire—the gea ...
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However in the seventh month With child, her belly Rising like a portion of the sun, Something knotted inside her. Manuel summoned the Partera And tho ...
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As I sit here in the quiet Summer night, Suddenly, from the distant road, there comes The grind and rush of an electric car. Sitting here in the Summe ...
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I walk down the garden paths, And all the daffodils Are blowing, and the bright blue squills. I walk down the patterned garden paths In my stiff, broc ...
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The west wind has lifted a scarf On the seat close beside me; the blue of it is a violent outrage of colour. Her kisses are sharp buds of fire; and I ...
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The trees had trapped the flimsy fabric in their web—everywhere the harnessed bodies hung—helpless, treading air like water.
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