From James Joyce's Portrait of the Artist as a Young ManAre you not weary of ardent ways ( Read more... )

(to remind myself ( Read more... )

Come, come, whoever you are,
Wonderer, worshipper, lover of leaving.
It doesn't matter.
Ours is not a caravan of despair.
Come, even if you have broken your vow

a thousand times
Come, yet again, come, come.

Did you know that April is National Poetry Month? I know, me either, which explains how it got to be April 4 without me posting any poetry ( Read more... )

She steps into the dark swamp ( Read more... )

Are you not weary of ardent ways ( Read more... )

( I love this poem )

I re-found this poem earlier today when looking for villanelles. I first encountered it in A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man: somehow, its many constraints seem to combine to make these poems hauntingly beautiful.

( The Waking, by Theodore Roethke )