ALL right, Go ahead! What’s in a name? I guess I’ll be locked into As much as I’m locked out of!

Still must the poet as of old, In barren attic bleak and cold, Starve, freeze, and fashion verses… Such things as flowers and song an… Still as of old his being give

To what purpose, April, do you re… Beauty is not enough. You can no longer quiet me with th… Of little leaves opening stickily. I know what I know.

“Heaven bless the babe!” they said… “What queer books she must have re… (Love, by whom I was beguiled, Grant I may not bear a child.) “Little does she guess to-day

I know the face of Falsehood and… Honeyed with unction, Plausible w… Are dear to men, whom count me not… That owe their daily credit to her… Such have been succoured out of gr…

I do but ask that you be always fa… That I forever may continue kind; Knowing me what I am, you should… To lapse from beauty ever, nor see… My alterable mood with lesser cord…

I could not bring this splendid wo… In charge of it, to defer, no, not… Appearance, to my handsome prophec… which here I ponder and put by. I am left simpler, less encumbered…

How shall I know, unless I go To Cairo and Cathay, Whether or not this blessed spot Is blest in every way? Now it may be, the flower for me

Searching my heart for its true so… This is the thing I find to be: That I am weary of words and peop… Sick of the city, wanting the sea; Wanting the sticky, salty sweetnes…

When I too long have looked upon… Wherein for me a brightness unobsc… Save by the mists of brightness ha… And terrible beauty not to be endu… I turn away reluctant from your li…

No rose that in a garden ever grew… In Homer’s or in Omar’s or in min… Though buried under centuries of f… Dead dust of roses, shut from sun… Forever, and forever lost from vie…

Just a rainy day or two In a windy tower, That was all I had of you— Saving half an hour. Marred by greeting passing groups

I cannot but remember    When the year grows old— October—November—    How she disliked the cold! She used to watch the swallows

When will you learn, myself, to be a dying leaf on a living tree? Budding, swelling, growing strong, Wearing green, but not for long, Drawing sustenance from air,

And you as well must die, beloved… And all your beauty stand you in n… This flawless, vital hand, this pe… This body of flame and steel, befo… Of Death, or under his autumnal f…