<p>What is the best poem you have ever read?</p>
<p>death be not proud...simple</p>
<p>The Raven by Poe</p>
<p>definitely "the Red Wheelbarrow," by William Carlos Williams.</p>
<p>not.</p>
<p>i love your comment cavalier!</p>
<p>the red wheelbarrow is definitely the most overrated poem...ever.</p>
<p>Anabelle Lee by Poe</p>
<p>It was many and many a year ago,
In a kingdom by the sea,
That a maiden there lived whom you may know
By the name of ANNABEL LEE;--
And this maiden she lived with no other thought
Than to love and be loved by me.
She was a child and I was a child,
In this kingdom by the sea,
But we loved with a love that was more than love--
I and my Annabel Lee--
With a love that the winged seraphs of heaven
Coveted her and me. </p>
<p>And this was the reason that, long ago,
In this kingdom by the sea,
A wind blew out of a cloud by night
Chilling my Annabel Lee;
So that her high-born kinsman came
And bore her away from me,
To shut her up in a sepulchre
In this kingdom by the sea. </p>
<p>The angels, not half so happy in Heaven,
Went envying her and me:--
Yes! that was the reason (as all men know,
In this kingdom by the sea)
That the wind came out of a cloud, chilling
And killing my Annabel Lee. </p>
<p>But our love it was stronger by far than the love
Of those who were older than we--
Of many far wiser than we-
And neither the angels in Heaven above,
Nor the demons down under the sea,
Can ever dissever my soul from the soul
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee:-- </p>
<p>For the moon never beams without bringing me dreams
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
And the stars never rise but I see the bright eyes
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side
Of my darling, my darling, my life and my bride,
In her sepulchre there by the sea--
In her tomb by the side of the sea.</p>
<p>Wasn't that just romantic, chilling, and beautiful?</p>
<p>Yeah.. I remember reading it sophmore year. Even though it's 1 AM and I'm dead tired, I still shivered a bit as I read that last stanza. Well.. I'm going to sleep.. I don't know why I'm staying up when I'm done with school.</p>
<p>The Road Not Taken by Robert Frost</p>
<p>Robert Desno (written to his wife in 1944 as he lay dying):</p>
<p>I have so fiercely dreamed of you
And walked so far and spoken of you so,
Loved a shade of you so hard
That now I've no more left of you.
I'm left to be shade among the shades
A hundred times more shade than shade
To be shade cast time and time again into your sun-transfigured life.</p>
<p>I loved it so much, I memorized it the first time I read it. It's my anthem.</p>
<p>Priscilla Leonard
Happiness </p>
<p>Happiness is like a crystal,
Fair and exquiste and clear,
Broken in a million pieces,
Shattered, scattered far and near.
Now and then along life's pathway,
Lo! some shining fragments fall;
But there are so many pieces
No one ever finds them all. </p>
<p>You may find a bit of beauty
Or an honest share of wealth,
While another just beside you
Gathers honor, love or health.
Vain to choose or grasp unduly,
Broken is the perfect ball;
And there are so many pieces
No one ever finds them all. </p>
<p>Yet the wise as on they journey
Treasure every fragment clear,
Fit them as they may together,
Imaging the shattered sphere,
Learning ever to be thankful,
Though their share of it is small;
For it has so many pieces
No one ever finds them all.</p>
<p>My favorite is "The Flea" by John Donne:</p>
<p>Mark but this flea, and mark in this,
How little that which thou deny'st me is;
It sucked me first, and now sucks thee,
And in this flea, our two bloods mingled be;
Thou knowest that this cannot be said
A sin, nor shame, nor loss of maidenhead.
Yet this enjoys before it woo,
And pampered, swells with one blood made of two,
And this, alas, is more than we would do.</p>
<p>Oh stay, three lives in one flea spare,
Where we almost, yea, more than married are.
This flea is you and I, and this
Our marriage bed, and marriage temple is;
Though parents grudge, and you, we are met
And cloistered in these living walls of jet.
Though use make you apt to kill me,
Let not to that self murder added be,
And sacrilege, three sins in killing three.</p>
<p>Cruel and sudden, hast thou since
Purpled thy nail in blood of innocence?
Wherein could this flea guilty be
Except in that drop which it sucked from thee?
Yet thou triumph'st, and sayest that thou
Find'st not thyself, nor me, the weaker now.
'Tis true, then learn how false fears be;
Just so much honor, when thou yieldst to me,
Will waste, as this flea's death took life from thee.</p>
<p>I love this one:
"Though I be young" by Charles Rom</p>
<p>Though I be young
And you unknown
I know your heart
Oh song unsung.
Often we have talked
When silence screams
Often have you walked
My drifting dreams;
When fullness fled
Friend sorrow basks
Flicking a lash
Of licking lead.
Stand solid soon
Beside me here
Ere I deny you are;
Come soon, come soon
To crutch this soul
Oh strong yet distant
Star.</p>
<p>The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock - T.S Eliot</p>
<p>"LET us go then, you and I,<br>
When the evening is spread out against the sky<br>
Like a patient etherised upon a table;<br>
Let us go, through certain half-deserted streets,<br>
The muttering retreats<br>
Of restless nights in one-night cheap hotels<br>
And sawdust restaurants with oyster-shells:<br>
Streets that follow like a tedious argument<br>
Of insidious intent<br>
To lead you to an overwhelming question
<br>
Oh, do not ask, What is it?<br>
Let us go and make our visit. </p>
<p>In the room the women come and go<br>
Talking of Michelangelo. "</p>
<p>etc, etc.. (too long to post entire poem)</p>
<p>a tie between "A Late Walk" by Frost and "The Wasteland" By Eliot. the former for a simple and beautiful verse and the latter for incalculable profundity</p>
<p>Eliot is a fun read...if you can get past the fact that he's in-fing-sane (in a poetically aesthetic sort of way). </p>
<p>Now 3 of my favorites:</p>
<p>Sonnet XIX by John Milton </p>
<p>When I consider how my light is spent,
Ere half my days, in this dark world and wide,
And that one talent which is death to hide
Lodged with me useless, though my soul more bent
To serve therewith my Maker, and present
My true account, lest He returning chide,
"Doth God exact day-labour, light denied?"
I fondly ask; But patience, to prevent
That murmur, soon replies "God doth not need
Either man's work or his own gifts. Who best
Bear His mild yoke, they serve Him best. His state
Is kingly: thousands at His bidding speed
And post o'er land and ocean without rest;
They also serve who only stand and wait."</p>
<p>Holy Sonnet XIV by John Donne</p>
<p>Batter my heart, three-person'd God ; for you
As yet but knock ; breathe, shine, and seek to mend ;
That I may rise, and stand, o'erthrow me, and bend
Your force, to break, blow, burn, and make me new.
I, like an usurp'd town, to another due,
Labour to admit you, but O, to no end.
Reason, your viceroy in me, me should defend,
But is captived, and proves weak or untrue.
Yet dearly I love you, and would be loved fain,
But am betroth'd unto your enemy ;
Divorce me, untie, or break that knot again,
Take me to you, imprison me, for I,
Except you enthrall me, never shall be free,
Nor ever chaste, except you ravish me. </p>
<p>There Will Come Soft Rains by Sarah Teasdale (I like it because of it's integration into the chilling short story of the same name in "The Martian Chronicles")</p>
<p>There will come soft rains and the smell of the ground,
And swallows circling with their shimmering sound;</p>
<p>And frogs in the pools singing at night,
And wild plum-trees in tremulous white;</p>
<p>Robins will wear their feathery fire
Whistling their whims on a low fence-wire;</p>
<p>And not one will know of the war, not one
Will care at last when it done.</p>
<p>Not one would mind, neither bird nor tree
If mankind perished utterly;</p>
<p>And Spring herself, when she woke at dawn,
Would scarcely know that we were gone.</p>
<p>"The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock - T.S Eliot"</p>
<p>That's one of my favorite poems too; unfortunately Eliot was an anti-semite, so I find it difficult to fairly assess his work. Yeats is good too; I like "The Second Coming" and "Easter, 1916." </p>
<p>"Dulce Et Decorum Est," by Wilfred Owen, is a hell of an anti-war statement.</p>
<p>Don't confuse the artist with the man, nomir_dva.</p>
<p>I don't really like poetry but "The Hollow Men" ~Eliot</p>
<p>My poem is the best</p>
<p>Nick is sick
How sick is nick?</p>
<p>Il Pleure Dans Mon Coeur ... Verlaine</p>