This list contains some of our favorites. Definition - "love conquers all things" Shortly before the start of the first millennium, the Roman poet Virgil wrote "love conquers all things; let us too surrender to Love.
That I was used to drive And hear the harness jingle When I was man alive? Be still, my lad, and sleep. Vincent Millay Love is not all: It is not meat nor drink Nor slumber nor a roof against the rain, Nor yet a floating spar to men that sink and rise and sink and rise and sink again.
Love cannot fill the thickened lung with breath Nor clean the blood, nor set the fractured bone; Yet many a man is making friends with death even as I speak, for lack of love alone. It may well be. I do not think I would. Our thanks to Michael Bennett for suggesting the inclusion of the poem above.
So subtly is the fume of life designed, To clarify the pulse and cloud the mind, And leave me once again undone, possessed. Think not for this, however, this poor treason Of my stout blood against my staggering brain, I shall remember you with love, or season My scorn with pity — let me make it plain: I find this frenzy insufficient reason For conversation when we meet again.
Vincent Millay What lips my lips have kissed, and where, and why, I have forgotten, and what arms have lain Under my head till morning; but the rain Is full of ghosts tonight, that tap and sigh Upon the glass and listen for reply, And in my heart there stirs a quiet pain For unremembered lads that not again Will turn to me at midnight with a cry.
Thus in winter stands the lonely tree, Nor knows what birds have vanished one by one, Yet knows its boughs more silent than before: I cannot say what loves have come and gone, I only know that summer sang in me A little while, that in me sings no more.
Their knickers are made of crepe-de-chine, their shoes are made of python, Their halls are lined with tiger rugs and their walls with head of bison. John MacDonald found a corpse, put it under the sofa, Waited till it came to life and hit it with a poker, Sold its eyes for souvenirs, sold its blood for whiskey, Kept its bones for dumbbells to use when he was fifty.
Annie MacDougall went to milk, caught her foot in the heather, Woke to hear a dance record playing of Old Vienna. His brother caught three hundred cran when the seas were lavish, Threw the bleeders back in the sea and went upon the parish. The Penitent by Edna St. As far as gloom went in that room, The lamp might have been lit!
My little Sorrow would not weep, My little Sin would go to sleep — To save my soul I could not keep My graceless mind on it! In my hungry fatigue, and shopping for images, I went into the neon fruit supermarket, dreaming of your enumerations! What peaches and what penumbras! Whole families shopping at night!
Aisles full of husbands! Wives in the avocados, babies in the tomatoes! I saw you, Walt Whitman, childless, lonely old grubber, poking among the meats in the refrigerator and eyeing the grocery boys.
I heard you asking questions of each: Who killed the pork chops? Are you my Angel?
I wandered in and out of the brilliant stacks of cans following you, and followed in my imagination by the store detective. We strode down the open corridors together in our solitary fancy tasting artichokes, possessing every frozen delicacy, and never passing the cashier.
Where are we going, Walt Whitman? The doors close in an hour.
Which way does your beard point tonight? I touch your book and dream of our odyssey in the supermarket and feel absurd. Will we walk all night through solitary streets? Will we stroll dreaming of the lost America of love past blue automobiles in driveways, home to our silent cottage? Ah, dear father, graybeard, lonely old courage-teacher, what America did you have when Charon quit poling his ferry and you got out on a smoking bank and stood watching the boat disappear on the black waters of Lethe?
On desperate seas long wont to roam, Thy hyacinth hair, thy classic face, Thy Naiad airs have brought me home To the glory that was Greece And the grandeur that was Rome.
Ah, Psyche, from the regions which Are Holy Land! Then shall i turn my face,and hear one bird sing terribly afar in the lost lands.
How Do I Love Thee? Let me count the ways. I love thee to the depth and breadth and height My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight For the ends of Being and ideal Grace.Literature: An Introduction to Fiction, Poetry, Drama, and Writing, 13th Edition. This title is currently unavailable on myPearsonStore.
|Quick Links - Poets.org||A secondary school in the city, the Andrew Marvell Business and Enterprise College, is now named after him. He may well have served as a tutor for an aristocrat on the Grand Tourbut the facts are not clear on this point.|
|Keep Exploring Britannica||Synopsis[ edit ] The speaker of the poem starts by addressing a woman who has been slow to respond to his romantic advances.|
|Subject Index - Carpe Diem||That I was used to drive And hear the harness jingle When I was man alive? Be still, my lad, and sleep.|
|Expert Answers||Andrew Marvell- Had we but world enough, and time, This coyness, Lady, were no crime.|
We recommend Literature: An Introduction to Fiction, Poetry, Drama, and Writing, MLA Update Edition, 13th Edition as a replacement. "Carpe Diem" is a Latin phrase that translates into English as "seize the day", or, more roughly, get up and do something - don't let life pass you by.
The speaker uses a metaphor in the phrase, "and pass our long love's day," in which he compares the lifespan of his and his coy mistress's love, so to speak, to a day.
The speaker employs another.
Often dismissed for his lewdness, Marvell didn't become very popular until T. S. Eliot wrote an essay praising him for his abililty to shift between high seriousness and humor. This particular poem was first published after Marvell's death, by his housekeeper.
These essays are not intended to replace library research. They are here to show you what others think about a given subject, and to perhaps spark an . "Carpe Diem" is a Latin phrase that translates into English as "seize the day", or, more roughly, get up and do something - don't let life pass you by.