Poems

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Our growing archive extends from past to present, gathering celebrated poets of history alongside great contemporary writers

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Heritage

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By Countee Cullen

I Have a Rendezvous with Life

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By Countee Cullen

To the Swimmer

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By Countee Cullen

Yet Do I Marvel

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By Countee Cullen

Cities

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By H.D.

Hermes of the Ways

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By H.D.

Sheltered Garden

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By H.D.

The Shrine

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By H.D.

Abecedarian Requiring Further Examination of Anglikan Seraphym Subjugation of a Wild Indian Rezervation

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By Natalie Diaz

Cranes, Mafiosos, and a Polaroid Camera

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By Natalie Diaz

Manhattan is a Lenape Word

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By Natalie Diaz

A Bird came down the Walk

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By Emily Dickinson

After great pain, a formal feeling comes

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By Emily Dickinson

Because I could not stop for Death

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By Emily Dickinson

Before I got my eye put out

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By Emily Dickinson

Bloom — is Result — to meet a Flower

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By Emily Dickinson

Denial—is the only fact

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By Emily Dickinson

Good Morning — Midnight

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By Emily Dickinson

I dwell in Possibility—

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By Emily Dickinson

I felt a Funeral, in my Brain

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By Emily Dickinson

I heard a Fly buzz—when I died—

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By Emily Dickinson

I started Early—Took my Dog—

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By Emily Dickinson

In this short Life

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By Emily Dickinson

It was not Death, for I stood up

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By Emily Dickinson

It’s all I have to bring today

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By Emily Dickinson

Much Madness is divinest Sense

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By Emily Dickinson

Of Bronze—and Blaze—

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By Emily Dickinson

Success is counted sweetest

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By Emily Dickinson

Tell all the truth but tell it slant

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By Emily Dickinson

The Grass so little has to do

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By Emily Dickinson

The Heart asks Pleasure first

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By Emily Dickinson

There’s a certain Slant of light

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By Emily Dickinson

This is my letter to the World

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By Emily Dickinson

This World is not Conclusion

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By Emily Dickinson

To make a prairie

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By Emily Dickinson

We grow accustomed to the Dark—

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By Emily Dickinson

You cannot put a Fire out—

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By Emily Dickinson

“Hope” is the thing with feathers

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By Emily Dickinson

A Dialogue Between Sir Henry Wotton and Mr. Donne

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By John Donne

A Fever

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By John Donne

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Explore our poems

Heritage

I Have a Rendezvous with Life

To the Swimmer

Yet Do I Marvel

Cities

Hermes of the Ways

Sheltered Garden

The Shrine

Abecedarian Requiring Further Examination of Anglikan Seraphym Subjugation of a Wild Indian Rezervation

Cranes, Mafiosos, and a Polaroid Camera

Manhattan is a Lenape Word

A Bird came down the Walk

After great pain, a formal feeling comes

Because I could not stop for Death

Before I got my eye put out

Bloom — is Result — to meet a Flower

Denial—is the only fact

Good Morning — Midnight

I dwell in Possibility—

I felt a Funeral, in my Brain

I heard a Fly buzz—when I died—

I started Early—Took my Dog—

In this short Life

It was not Death, for I stood up

It’s all I have to bring today

Much Madness is divinest Sense

Of Bronze—and Blaze—

Success is counted sweetest

Tell all the truth but tell it slant

The Grass so little has to do

The Heart asks Pleasure first

There’s a certain Slant of light

This is my letter to the World

This World is not Conclusion

To make a prairie

We grow accustomed to the Dark—

You cannot put a Fire out—

“Hope” is the thing with feathers

A Dialogue Between Sir Henry Wotton and Mr. Donne

A Fever