Poem in Your Pocket

Poem
in Your
Pocket
Day
Every April, on Poem in Your

Pocket Day, people throughout
the United States celebrate by
selecting a poem, carrying it
with them, and sharing it with
others throughout the day.
Join the celebration by printing
one of the following poems.
You can also share your poem
selection on Twitter by using
the hashtag #pocketpoem.
Table of Contents
Emily Dickinson, Im Nobody! Who are you?

Edna St. Vincent Millay, Afternoon on a Hill
4
5
H. D., Oread 6
Gerard Manley Hopkins, As kingfishers catch fire, dragonflies drw flme
Amy Lowell, The Taxi

8
Robert Frost, Design 9
William Wordsworth, A Slumber Did My Spirit Seal
10
Walt Whitman, Song of Myself, I
11
Wilfred Owen, Anthem for Doomed Youth
12
William Shakespeare, Sonnet 18
13
Paul Laurence Dunbar, Summer in the South
14
Jean Toomer, Storm Ending 15

Wallace Stevens, The Snow Man
16
Claude McKay, The Tropics of New York
17
William Carlos Williams, Spring Storm 18

John Keats, Bright Star
19
Edwin Arlington Robinson, Dear Friends
20
Carl Sandburg, At a Window
21
A. E. Housman, Would Not Stay 22

T. S. Eliot, Morning at the Window 23
Emily Bront, Spellbound
24
John Donne, Holy Sonnet 14 25
Emma Lazarus, Long Island Sound
26
Emily Dickinson, Wild Nights Wild Nights!
27
W. B. Yeats, The Lake Isle of Innisfree
28
Poems for Kids

Eliza Lee Follen, The Good Moolly Cow [excerpt]
29
Walt Whitman, A Noiseless Patient Spider
30
Marsden Hartley, Fishmonger 31

Robert Frost, Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
32
Rudyard Kipling, Untitled
33
Christina Rossetti, Clouds
34
Distribute freely! These poems are all in the public domain.

To learn more about these poets and to read more poems visit poets.org
Poem in Your Pocket Day

April 30, 2015
Im Nobody! Who are you?

Emily Dickinson
Im Nobody! Who are you?

Are youNobodytoo?
Then theres a pair of us!
Dont tell! theyd advertiseyou know!
How drearyto beSomebody!
How publiclike a Frog
To tell ones namethe livelong June
To an admiring Bog!
This poem is in the public domain. For more poems visit poets.org

April 30, 2015
Afternoon on a Hill
Edna St. Vincent Millay
I will be the gladdest thing

Under the sun!
I will touch a hundred flowers
And not pick one.
I will look at cliffs and clouds
With quiet eyes,
Watch the wind bow down the grass,
And the grass rise.
And when lights begin to show
Up from the town,
I will mark which must be mine,
And then start down!

April 30, 2015
Oread
H. D.
Whirl up, sea

Whirl your pointed pines.
Splash your great pines
On our rocks.
Hurl your green over us
Cover us with your pools of fir.

April 30, 2015
As kingfishers catch fire,

dragonflies drw flme
Gerard Manley Hopkins
As kingfishers catch fire, dragonflies drw flme;

As tumbled over rim in roundy wells
Stones ring; like each tucked string tells, each hung bells
Bow swung finds tongue to fling out broad its name;
Each mortal thing does one thing and the same:
Deals out that being indoors each one dwells;
Selvesgoes itself; myself it speaks and spells,
Crying Wht I do is me: for that I came.
say mre: the just man justices;
Keps grce: tht keeps all his goings graces;
Acts in Gods eye what in Gods eye he is
Chrstfor Christ plays in ten thousand places,
Lovely in limbs, and lovely in eyes not his
To the Father through the features of mens faces.

April 30, 2015
The Taxi
Amy Lowell
When I go away from you

The world beats dead
Like a slackened drum.
I call out for you against the jutted stars
And shout into the ridges of the wind.
Streets coming fast,
One after the other,
Wedge you away from me,
And the lamps of the city prick my eyes
So that I can no longer see your face.
Why should I leave you,
To wound myself upon the sharp edges of the night?

April 30, 2015
Design
Robert Frost
I found a dimpled spider, fat and white,

On a white heal-all, holding up a moth
Like a white piece of rigid satin cloth
Assorted characters of death and blight
Mixed ready to begin the morning right,
Like the ingredients of a witches broth
A snow-drop spider, a flower like a froth,
And dead wings carried like a paper kite.
What had that flower to do with being white,
The wayside blue and innocent heal-all?
What brought the kindred spider to that height,
Then steered the white moth thither in the night?
What but design of darkness to appall?
If design govern in a thing so small.

April 30, 2015
A Slumber Did My Spirit Seal

William Wordsworth
A slumber did my spirit seal;

I had no human fears:
She seemed a thing that could not feel
The touch of earthly years.
No motion has she now, no force;
She neither hears nor sees;
Rolled round in earths diurnal course,
With rocks, and stones, and trees.

April 30, 2015
Song of Myself, I
Walt Whitman
I Celebrate myself, and sing myself,

And what I assume you shall assume,
For every atom belonging to me as good belongs to you.
I loafe and invite my soul,
I lean and loafe at my ease observing a spear of summer grass.
My tongue, every atom of my blood, formd from this soil,

this air,
Born here of parents born here from parents the same, and

their parents the same,
I, now thirty-seven years old in perfect health begin,

Hoping to cease not till death.
Creeds and schools in abeyance,
Retiring back a while sufficed at what they are, but never
forgotten,
I harbor for good or bad, I permit to speak at every hazard,
Nature without check with original energy.

April 30, 2015
Anthem for Doomed Youth

Wilfred Owen
What passing-bells for these who die as cattle?

Only the monstrous anger of the guns.
Only the stuttering rifles rapid rattle
Can patter out their hasty orisons.
No mockeries now for them; no prayers nor bells;
Nor any voice of mourning save the choirs,
The shrill, demented choirs of wailing shells;
And bugles calling for them from sad shires.
What candles may be held to speed them all?
Not in the hands of boys, but in their eyes
Shall shine the holy glimmers of good-byes.
The pallor of girls brows shall be their pall;
Their flowers the tenderness of patient minds,
And each slow dusk a drawing-down of blinds.

April 30, 2015
Sonnet 18
William Shakespeare
Shall I compare thee to a summers day?

Thou art more lovely and more temperate.
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
And summers lease hath all too short a date.
Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,
And often is his gold complexion dimmed;
And every fair from fair sometime declines,
By chance, or natures changing course, untrimmed;
But thy eternal summer shall not fade,
Nor lose possession of that fair thou owst,
Nor shall death brag thou wandrest in his shade,
When in eternal lines to Time thou growst.
So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see,
So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.

April 30, 2015
Summer in the South

Paul Laurence Dunbar
The oriole sings in the greening grove

As if he were half-way waiting,
The rosebuds peep from their hoods of green,
Timid and hesitating.
The rain comes down in a torrent sweep
And the nights smell warm and piney,
The garden thrives, but the tender shoots
Are yellow-green and tiny.
Then a flash of sun on a waiting hill,
Streams laugh that erst were quiet,
The sky smiles down with a dazzling blue
And the woods run mad with riot.

April 30, 2015
Storm Ending
Jean Toomer
Thunder blossoms gorgeously above our heads,

Great, hollow, bell-like flowers,
Rumbling in the wind,
Stretching clappers to strike our ears . . .
Full-lipped flowers
Bitten by the sun
Bleeding rain
Dripping rain like golden honey
And the sweet earth flying from the thunder.

April 30, 2015
The Snow Man

Wallace Stevens
One must have a mind of winter

To regard the frost and the boughs
Of the pine-trees crusted with snow;
And have been cold a long time
To behold the junipers shagged with ice,
The spruces rough in the distant glitter
Of the January sun; and not to think
Of any misery in the sound of the wind,
In the sound of a few leaves,
Which is the sound of the land
Full of the same wind
That is blowing in the same bare place
For the listener, who listens in the snow,
And, nothing himself, beholds
Nothing that is not there and the nothing that is.

April 30, 2015
The Tropics of New York

Claude McKay
Bananas ripe and green, and ginger root

Cocoa in pods and alligator pears,
And tangerines and mangoes and grape fruit,
Fit for the highest prize at parish fairs,
Sat in the window, bringing memories
of fruit-trees laden by low-singing rills,
And dewy dawns, and mystical skies
In benediction over nun-like hills.
My eyes grow dim, and I could no more gaze;
A wave of longing through my body swept,
And, hungry for the old, familiar ways
I turned aside and bowed my head and wept.

April 30, 2015
Spring Storm
William Carlos Williams
The sky has given over

its bitterness.
Out of the dark change
all day long
rain falls and falls
as if it would never end.
Still the snow keeps
its hold on the ground.
But water, water
from a thousand runnels!
It collects swiftly,
dappled with black
cuts a way for itself
through green ice in the gutters.
Drop after drop it falls
from the withered grass-stems
of the overhanging embankment.

April 30, 2015
Bright Star
John Keats
Bright star! would I were steadfast as thou art

Not in lone splendour hung aloft the night,
And watching, with eternal lids apart,
Like Natures patient sleepless Eremite,
The moving waters at their priestlike task
Of pure ablution round earths human shores,
Or gazing on the new soft fallen mask
Of snow upon the mountains and the moors
Noyet still steadfast, still unchangeable,
Pillowd upon my fair loves ripening breast,
To feel for ever its soft fall and swell,
Awake for ever in a sweet unrest,
Still, still to hear her tender-taken breath,
And so live everor else swoon to death.

April 30, 2015
Dear Friends
Edwin Arlington Robinson
Dear friends, reproach me not for what I do,

Nor counsel me, nor pity me; nor say
That I am wearing half my life away
For bubble-work that only fools pursue.
And if my bubbles be too small for you,
Blow bigger then your own: the games we play
To fill the frittered minutes of a day,
Good glasses are to read the spirit through.
And whoso reads may get him some shrewd skill;
And some unprofitable scorn resign,
To praise the very thing that he deplores;
So, friends (dear friends), remember, if you will,
The shame I win for singing is all mine,
The gold I miss for dreaming is all yours.

April 30, 2015
At a Window
Carl Sandburg
Give me hunger,
O you gods that sit and give
The world its orders.
Give me hunger, pain and want,
Shut me out with shame and failure
From your doors of gold and fame,
Give me your shabbiest, weariest hunger!
But leave me a little love,
A voice to speak to me in the day end,
A hand to touch me in the dark room
Breaking the long loneliness.
In the dusk of day-shapes
Blurring the sunset,
One little wandering, western star
Thrust out from the changing shores of shadow.
Let me go to the window,
Watch there the day-shapes of dusk
And wait and know the coming
Of a little love.

April 30, 2015
He would not stay for me,

and who can wonder
A. E. Housman
He would not stay for me, and who can wonder?

He would not stay for me to stand and gaze.
I shook his hand, and tore my heart in sunder,
And went with half my life about my ways.

April 30, 2015
Morning at the Window

T. S. Eliot
They are rattling breakfast plates in basement kitchens,

And along the trampled edges of the street
I am aware of the damp souls of housemaids
Sprouting despondently at area gates.
The brown waves of fog toss up to me
Twisted faces from the bottom of the street,
And tear from a passer-by with muddy skirts
An aimless smile that hovers in the air
And vanishes along the level of the roofs.

April 30, 2015
Spellbound
Emily Bront
The night is darkening round me,

The wild winds coldly blow;
But a tyrant spell has bound me
And I cannot, cannot go.
The giant trees are bending
Their bare boughs weighed with snow.
And the storm is fast descending,
And yet I cannot go.
Clouds beyond clouds above me,
Wastes beyond wastes below;
But nothing drear can move me;
I will not, cannot go.

April 30, 2015
Holy Sonnet 14
John Donne
Batter my heart, three-personed God, for you

As yet but knock, breathe, shine, and seek to mend;
That I may rise, and stand, oerthrow me, and bend
Your force to break, blow, burn, and make me new.
I, like an usurped town, to another due,
Labour to admit you, but Oh, to no end.
Reason, your viceroy in me, me should defend,
But is captived, and proves weak or untrue.
Yet dearly I love you, and would be loved fain,
But am betrothed unto your enemy:
Divorce me, untie or break that knot again,
Take me to you, imprison me, for I,
Except you enthrall me, never shall be free,
Nor ever chaste, except you ravish me.

April 30, 2015
Long Island Sound

Emma Lazarus
I see it as it looked one afternoon

In August,by a fresh soft breeze oerblown.
The swiftness of the tide, the light thereon,
A far-off sail, white as a crescent moon.
The shining waters with pale currents strewn,
The quiet fishing-smacks, the Eastern cove,
The semi-circle of its dark, green grove.
The luminous grasses, and the merry sun
In the grave sky; the sparkle far and wide,
Laughter of unseen children, cheerful chirp
Of crickets, and low lisp of rippling tide,
Light summer clouds fantastical as sleep
Changing unnoted while I gazed thereon.
All these fair sounds and sights I made my own.

April 30, 2015
Wild Nights Wild Nights!

Emliy Dickinson
Wild Nights Wild Nights!

Were I with thee
Wild Nights should be
Our luxury!
Futile the winds
To a heart in port
Done with the compass
Done with the chart!
Rowing in Eden
Ah, the sea!
Might I moor Tonight
In thee!

April 30, 2015
The Lake Isle of Innisfree

W. B. Yeats
I will arise and go now, and go to Innisfree,

And a small cabin build there, of clay and wattles made:
Nine bean-rows will I have there, a hive for the honey-bee;
And live alone in the bee-loud glade.
And I shall have some peace there, for peace comes dropping slow,
Dropping from the veils of the morning to where the cricket sings;
There midnights all a glimmer, and noon a purple glow,
And evening full of the linnets wings.
I will arise and go now, for always night and day
I hear lake water lapping with low sounds by the shore;
While I stand on the roadway, or on the pavements grey,
I hear it in the deep hearts core.

April 30, 2015
The Good Moolly Cow [excerpt]

Eliza Lee Follen
Come! supper is ready;

Come! boys and girls, now,
For here is fresh milk
From the good moolly cow.
Have done with your fife,
And your row de dow dow,
And taste this sweet milk
From the good moolly cow.
When children are hungry,
O, who can tell how
They love the fresh milk
From the good moolly cow!
So, when you meet moolly,
Just say, with a bow,
Thank you for your milk,
Mrs. Good Moolly Cow.

April 30, 2015
A Noiseless Patient Spider

Walt Whitman
A noiseless patient spider,

I markd where on a little promontory it stood isolated,
Markd how to explore the vacant vast surrounding,
It launchd forth filament, filament, filament, out of itself,
Ever unreeling them, ever tirelessly speeding them.
And you O my soul where you stand,
Surrounded, detached, in measureless oceans of space,
Ceaselessly musing, venturing, throwing, seeking the spheres to
connect them,
Till the bridge you will need be formd, till the ductile anchor hold,
Till the gossamer thread you fling catch somewhere, O my soul.

April 30, 2015
Fishmonger
Marsden Hartley
I have taken scales from off

The cheeks of the moon.
I have made fins from bluejays wings,
I have made eyes from damsons in the shadow.
I have taken flushes from the peachlips in the sun.
From all these I have made a fish of heaven for you,
Set it swimming on a young October sky.
I sit on the bank of the stream and watch
The grasses in amazement
As they turn to ashy gold.
Are the fishes from the rainbow
Still beautiful to you,
For whom they are made,
For whom I have set them,
Swimming?

April 30, 2015
Stopping by Woods
on a Snowy Evening
Robert Frost
Whose woods these are I think I know.

His house is in the village though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.
My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.
He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sounds the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.
The woods are lovely, dark and deep.
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.

April 30, 2015
Untitled
Rudyard Kipling
You mustnt swim till youre six weeks old,

Or your head will be sunk by your heels;
And summer gales and Killer Whales
Are bad for baby seals.
Are bad for baby seals, dear rat,
As bad as bad can be.
But splash and grow strong,
And you cant be wrong,
Child of the Open Sea!

April 30, 2015
Clouds
Christina Rossetti
White sheep, white sheep,

On a blue hill,
When the wind stops,
You all stand still.
When the wind blows,
You walk away slow.
White sheep, white sheep,
Where do you go?

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Poem

Every April, on Poem in Your

Amy Lowell, The Taxi

Walt Whitman, Song of Myself, I

Wilfred Owen, Anthem for Doomed Youth

William Shakespeare, Sonnet 18

Paul Laurence Dunbar, Summer in the South

Jean Toomer, Storm Ending 15

Claude McKay, The Tropics of New York

William Carlos Williams, Spring Storm 18

Edwin Arlington Robinson, Dear Friends

Carl Sandburg, At a Window

A. E. Housman, Would Not Stay 22

John Donne, Holy Sonnet 14 25

Emma Lazarus, Long Island Sound

Emily Dickinson, Wild Nights Wild Nights!

W. B. Yeats, The Lake Isle of Innisfree

Poems for Kids

Walt Whitman, A Noiseless Patient Spider

Marsden Hartley, Fishmonger 31

Rudyard Kipling, Untitled

Christina Rossetti, Clouds

Distribute freely! These poems are all in the public domain.

Poem in Your Pocket Day

Im Nobody! Who are you?

Im Nobody! Who are you?

Poem in Your Pocket Day

I will be the gladdest thing

Poem in Your Pocket Day

Whirl up, sea

Poem in Your Pocket Day

As kingfishers catch fire,

As kingfishers catch fire, dragonflies drw flme;

Poem in Your Pocket Day

When I go away from you

Poem in Your Pocket Day

I found a dimpled spider, fat and white,

Poem in Your Pocket Day

A Slumber Did My Spirit Seal

A slumber did my spirit seal;

Poem in Your Pocket Day

I Celebrate myself, and sing myself,

their parents the same,

I, now thirty-seven years old in perfect health begin,

Poem in Your Pocket Day

Anthem for Doomed Youth

What passing-bells for these who die as cattle?

Poem in Your Pocket Day

Shall I compare thee to a summers day?

Poem in Your Pocket Day

Summer in the South

The oriole sings in the greening grove

Poem in Your Pocket Day

Thunder blossoms gorgeously above our heads,

Poem in Your Pocket Day

The Snow Man

One must have a mind of winter

Poem in Your Pocket Day

The Tropics of New York