Section: «Poems»
Verse (ancient Greek ὁ στίχος — row, structure), a term in versification used in several meanings:
artistic speech organized by division into rhythmically commensurate segments; poetry in the narrow sense; in particular, it implies the properties of versification of a particular tradition ("antique verse", "Akhmatova's verse", etc.);
a line of poetic text organized according to a certain rhythmic pattern ("My uncle of the most honest rules").
New Year’s Day
By Kim AddonizioThe rain this morning falls on the last of the snowand will wash it away. I can smell the grass again, and the torn leavesbeing..
© New Year’s Day
Burning the Old Year
By Naomi Shihab NyeLetters swallow themselves in seconds. Notes friends tied to the doorknob, transparent scarlet paper,sizzle like moth..
© New Year’s Day
Faustina, or Rock Roses
Tended by Faustinayes in a crazy houseupon a crazy bed,frail, of chipped enamel,blooming above her headinto four vaguely..
© Elizabeth Bishop
Crusoe in England
A new volcano has erupted,the papers say, and last week I was readingwhere some ship saw an island being born:at first a breath of steam, ten miles..
© Elizabeth Bishop
Suicide Of A Moderate Dictator
This is a day when truths will out, perhaps;leak from the dangling telephone earphonessapping the festooned switchboards' strength;fall from the..
© Elizabeth Bishop
Intimate, Low-Voiced, Delicate Things
It is marvellous to wake up togetherAt the same minute; marvellous to hearThe rain begin suddenly all over the roof,To feel the air suddenly clearAs..
© Elizabeth Bishop
Songs For A Colored Singer
IA washing hangs upon the line,but it's not mine.None of the things that I can seebelong to me.The neighbors got a radio with an aerial;we got a..
© Elizabeth Bishop
Strayed Crab
This is not my home. How did I get so far from water? It mustbe over that way somewhere.I am the color of wine, of tinta. The inside of my..
© Elizabeth Bishop
Squatter's Children
On the unbreathing sides of hillsthey play, a specklike girl and boy,alone, but near a specklike house.The Sun's suspended eyeblinks casually, and..
© Elizabeth Bishop
Manuelzinho
[Brazil. A friend of the writer is speaking.]Half squatter, half tenant (no rent)—a sort of inheritance; white,in your thirties now, and supposedto..
© Elizabeth Bishop
Sonnet (1979)
Caught -- the bubblein the spirit level,a creature divided;and the compass needlewobbling and wavering,undecided.Freed -- the brokenthermometer's..
© Elizabeth Bishop
Sonnet (1928)
I am in need of music that would flowOver my fretful, feeling finger-tips,Over my bitter-tainted, trembling lips,With melody, deep, clear, and..
© Elizabeth Bishop
Trouvée
Oh, why should a henhave been run overon West 4th Streetin the middle of summer?She was a white hen--red-and-white now, of course.How did she get..
© Elizabeth Bishop
View Of The Capitol From The Library Of Congress
Moving from left to left, the lightis heavy on the Dome, and coarse.One small lunette turns it asideand blankly stares off to the sidelike a big..
© Elizabeth Bishop
Sleeping On The Ceiling
It is so peaceful on the ceiling!It is the Place de la Concorde.The little crystal chandelieris off, the fountain is in the dark.Not a soul is in the..
© Elizabeth Bishop
Sonnet
I am in need of music that would flowOver my fretful, feeling finger-tips,Over my bitter-tainted, trembling lips,With melody, deep, clear, and..
© Elizabeth Bishop
Giant Snail
The rain has stopped. The waterfall will roar like that allnight. I have come out to take a walk and feed. My body--foot,that is--is wet and cold and..
© Elizabeth Bishop
Roosters
At four o'clockin the gun-metal blue darkwe hear the first crow of the first cockjust belowthe gun-metal blue windowand immediately there is an..
© Elizabeth Bishop
The Burglar Of Babylon
On the fair green hills of RioThere grows a fearful stain:The poor who come to RioAnd can't go home again.On the hills a million people,A million..
© Elizabeth Bishop
Rain Towards Morning
The great light cage has broken up in the air,freeing, I think, about a million birdswhose wild ascending shadows will not be back,and all the wires..
© Elizabeth Bishop
Visits To St Elizabeths
This is the house of Bedlam.This is the manthat lies in the house of Bedlam.This is the timeof the tragic manthat lies in the house of Bedlam.This is..
© Elizabeth Bishop
While Someone Telephones
Wasted, wasted minutes that couldn't be worse,minutes of a barbaric condescension.--Stare out the bathroom window at the fir-trees,at their dark..
© Elizabeth Bishop
North Haven
In Memoriam: Robert LowellI can make out the rigging of a schoonera mile off; I can countthe new cones on the spruce. It is so stillthe pale bay..
© Elizabeth Bishop
The Weed
I dreamed that dead, and meditating,I lay upon a grave, or bed,(at least, some cold and close-built bower).In the cold heart, its final thoughtstood..
© Elizabeth Bishop
The Man-Moth
Here, above,cracks in the buldings are filled with battered moonlight.The whole shadow of Man is only as big as his hat.It lies at his feet like a..
© Elizabeth Bishop