Category: Sunday Poetry
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Sunday #Poetry: Prayer To Persephone
“Poetry is truth in its Sunday clothes.” ~Joseph Roux “Prayer to Persephone” Edna St. Vincent Millay BE to her, Persephone, All the things I might not be: Take her head upon your knee. She that was so proud and wild, Flippant, arrogant and free, She that had no need of me, Is a little…
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Sunday #Poetry: The Kindly Rain
“Poetry is truth in its Sunday clothes.” ~Joseph Roux “The Kindly Rain” Du Fu translated by W. J. B. Fletcher THE kindly rain its proper season knows. With gentle Spring aye born in fitting hour. Along the Wind with cloaking Night it goes. Enmoistening, fine, inaudible it flows. The clouds the mountain paths in darkness…
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Sunday #Poetry: Vile Spring
“Poetry is truth in its Sunday clothes.” ~Joseph Roux “Vile Spring” Pierre-Jean de Béranger translated by Wilfrid Thorley I SAW her at her window set, Myself at mine all winter through; And well we loved who’d never met, Our kisses crossed the avenue. Between the lindens bare of green The sight of her made all…
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Sunday #Poetry: Mid Winter
“Poetry is truth in its Sunday clothes.” ~Joseph Roux “Mid Winter” Carolyn Crosby Wilson IF I were God, I’d mould hills rolling low, Smooth them and shape them, sift them deep with snow, And scatter them with furze that they might lie Softly, against the wide deep-tinted sky. In slow caress my forming hand would…
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Sunday #Poetry: Woods In Winter
“Poetry is truth in its Sunday clothes.” ~Joseph Roux “Woods In Winter” Henry Wadsworth Longfellow WHEN winter winds are piercing chill, And through the hawthorn blows the gale, With solemn feet I tread the hill, That overbrows the lonely vale. O’er the bare upland, and away Through the long reach of desert woods, The embracing…
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Sunday #Poetry: Snow Man
“Poetry is truth in its Sunday clothes.” ~Joseph Roux “Snow Man” Wallace Stevens ONE must have a mind of winter To regard the frost and the boughs Of the pine-trees crusted with snow; And have been cold a long time To behold the junipers shagged with ice, The spruces rough in the distant glitter Of…
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Sunday #Poetry: Ring Out, Wild Bells
“Poetry is truth in its Sunday clothes.” ~Joseph Roux “Ring Out, Wild Bells” Alfred Lord Tennyson RING out, wild bells, to the wild sky, The flying cloud, the frosty light; The year is dying in the night; Ring out, wild bells, and let him die. Ring out the old, ring in the new, Ring, happy…
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Sunday #Poetry: Christmas Bells
“Poetry is truth in its Sunday clothes.” ~Joseph Roux “Christmas Bells” Henry Wadsworth Longfellow I heard the bells on Christmas Day Their old, familiar carols play, And wild and sweet The words repeat Of peace on earth, good-will to men! And thought how, as the day had come, The belfries of all Christendom Had rolled…
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Sunday #Poetry: The Holly King
“Poetry is truth in its Sunday clothes.” ~Joseph Roux “THE Holly King” Anonymous The holly and the ivy, when they were both full grown, Of all the trees that are in the wood, the holly bears the crown. I AM the Holly King, Lord of the Waning Year. You may know me as the Green…
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Sunday #Poetry: A December Day
“Poetry is truth in its Sunday clothes.” ~Joseph Roux “A December Day” Robert Fuller Murray THAT’S no December sky! Surely ’tis June Holds now her state on high Queen of the noon. Only the tree-tops bare Crowning the hill, Clear-cut in perfect air, Warn us that still Winter, the aged chief, Mighty in power, Exiles…
L.J.K. OLIVA 