Poems
11.03.2010 / 01.08 am
 
by Marianne Clarke Moore
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My father used to say,
"Superior people never make long visits,
have to be shown Longfellow's grave
nor the glass flowers at Harvard.
Self reliant like the cat --
that takes its prey to privacy,
the mouse's limp tail hanging like a shoelace from its mouth --
they sometimes enjoy solitude,
and can be robbed of speech
by speech which has delighted them.
The deepest feeling always shows itself in silence;
not in silence, but restraint."
Nor was he insincere in saying, "`Make my house your inn'."
Inns are not residences.


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To An Intra-mural Rat

You make me think of many men
Once met, to be forgot again
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Marriage

This institution,
perhaps one should say enterprise
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Poetry

I too, dislike it: there are things that are important beyond all this fiddle.
Reading it, however, with a perfect contempt for it, one discovers that there is in
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Joyce KilmerJoyce Kilmer (9)
(1886 - 1918)
Was an American journalist, poet, literary critic, lecturer, and editor.
John Millington SyngeJohn Millington Synge (5)
(1871 - 1909)
Was an Irish playwright, poet, prose writer, and collector of folklore. He was one of the cofounders of the Abbey Theatre.
Edward HarringtonEdward Harrington (3)
(1895 - 1966)
The soldier poet.
Wilfred Wilson GibsonWilfred Wilson Gibson (5)
(1878 - 1962)
Wilfrid Wilson Gibson was a British poet, associated with World War I but also the author of much later work.

Spacious Firmament On High, The

The spacious firmament on high,
With all the blue ethereal sky,
Rating: 5.00
Votes: 1
 

Upon The Death Of Sir Albert Morton's Wife

He first deceased; she for a little tried
To live without him, liked it not, and died.
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Schoolmistress

Schoolmistress
Having, with bold Horatius, stamped her feet
Rating: 3.67
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The House Of Clay

THERE was a house, a house of clay,
Wherein the inmate sat all day,
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Choices

They offer you many things,
I a few.
Rating: 4.00
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