DPF / Holmes

Dear Poetry Followers, this one’s for Ms. Dickinson, from THE MS OF MY KIN.

from 1862.29 / by Janet Holmes

          who heard
                the Birds


    No one could

                   Eden —


DPF / Dickinson

For 9/11, the September 11th entry, from Poem A Day: Volume 2.

from #280 / by Emily Dickinson

I felt a Funeral in my Brain,
And Mourners to and fro
Kept treading — treading — till it seemed
That Sense was breaking through __

DPF / Whitman

For a Happy 4th, if you celebrate it, and for a happy Tuesday, if not, from poetryfoundation.org.

from I Hear America Singing / by Walt Whitman

I hear America singing, the varied carols I hear,
Those of mechanics, each one singing his as it should be blithe and strong,
The carpenter singing his as he measures his plank or beam,
The mason singing his as he makes ready for work, or leaves off work,
The boatman singing what belongs to him in his boat, the deckhand singing on the steamboat deck,
The shoemaker singing as he sits on his bench, the hatter singing as he stands,
The wood-cutter’s song, the ploughboy’s on his way in the morning, or at noon intermission or at sundown,

DPF / Dickinson

For does grief global, religious, or personal, ever feel lighter than the moment it found you? From Emily Dickinson: Selected Poems.

from Griefs / by Emily Dickinson

I wonder if when years have piled —
Some thousands — on the cause
Of early hurt, if such a lapse
Could give them any pause

DPF / Moore

For the night, from The Night Before Christmas. 

from The Night Before Christmas / by Clement C. Moore or Henry Livingston, Jr.

‘Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care
In hopes that Saint Nicholas soon would be there.
The children were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of sugarplums danced in their heads.