National Poetry Month: April 25th

Natural History by E.B. White

The spider, dropping down from twig,
Unwinds a thread of her devising:
A thin, premeditated rig
To use in rising.

And all the journey down through space,
In cool descent, and loyal-hearted,
She builds a ladder to the place
From which she started.

Thus I, gone forth, as spiders do,
In spider’s webs a truth discerning,
Attach one silken strand to you
For my returning.

(Sent by White to his wife during a 1929 business trip and published fifty years later.)

attached lovers

This poem was selected by Jeff B. (Readers’ Services)

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National Poetry Month: April 24th

Novel by Arthur Rimbaud

I.

No one’s serious at seventeen.
–On beautiful nights when beer and lemonade
And loud, blinding cafes are the last thing you need
–You stroll beneath green lindens on the promenade.

Lindens smell fine on fine June nights!
Sometimes the air is so sweet that you close your eyes;
The wind brings sounds–the town is near–
And carries scents of vineyards and beer…

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National Poetry Month: April 23rd (Happy Birthday, William Shakespeare!)

Sonnet XXV by William Shakespeare

Let those who are in favor with their stars
Of public honor and proud titles boast,
Whilst I, whom fortune of such triumph bars,
Unlooked for joy in that I honor most.
Great princes’ favorites their fair leaves spread
But as the marigold at the sun’s eye;
And in themselves their pride lies buried,
For at a frown they in their glory die.
The painful warrior famoused for fight,
After a thousand victories once foiled,
Is from the book of honor rased quite,
And all the rest forgot for which he toiled.
.   Then happy I, that love and am beloved
.   Where I may not remove nor be removed.

warrior

This poem was selected by Russell J. (Adult Services Librarian)

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National Poetry Month: April 22nd

Patience by Rabindranath Tagore

If thou speakest not I will fill my heart with thy silence and endure it.
I will keep still and wait like the night with starry vigil
and its head bent low with patience.
The morning will surely come, the darkness will vanish,
and thy voice pour down in golden streams breaking through the sky.
Then thy words will take wing in songs from every one of my birds’ nests,
and thy melodies will break forth in flowers in all my forest groves.

sunrise

This poem was selected by Kate K. (North Branch)

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National Poetry Month: April 20th

Eating Poetry by Mark Strand

Ink runs from the corners of my mouth.
There is no happiness like mine.
I have been eating poetry.

The librarian does not believe what she sees.
Her eyes are sad
and she walks with her hands in her dress.

The poems are gone.
The light is dim.
The dogs are on the basement stairs and coming up.

Their eyeballs roll,
their blond legs burn like brush.
The poor librarian begins to stamp her feet and weep.

She does not understand.
When I get on my knees and lick her hand,
she screams.

I am a new man.
I snarl at her and bark.
I romp with joy in the bookish dark.

eat-poetry-eating-words-poet-poem

This poem was selected by Heather R. (Adult Services Librarian)

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