The apparition of these faces in the crowd:Petals on a wet, black bough.Pound One of my favorite poems, "In a Station of the Metro" is a piece of Imagist poetry depicting the briefest moment of time in crisp language and quick emotion. While I seldom like modernist poetry, this one has always fascinated me. Unlike …
Let me not to the marriage of true mindsAdmit impediments. Love is not loveWhich alters when it alteration finds,Or bends with the remover to remove.O no! it is an ever-fixed markThat looks on tempests and is never shaken;It is the star to every wand'ring bark,Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.Love's not Time's fool, …
Whan that Aprille with his shoures soteThe droghte of Marche hath perced to the rote,And bathed every veyne in swich licour,Of which vertu engendred is the flour;Whan Zephirus eek with his swete breethInspired hath in every holt and heethThe tendre croppes, and the yonge sonneHath in the Ram his halfe cours y-ronne,And smale fowles maken …
Let us, then, be up and doing, With a heart for any fate; Still achieving, still pursuing Learn to labor and to wait.
"Will it alter my life altogether? O tell me the truth about love." W.H. Auden
Madelyn Rose Craig 