POEM OF THE DAY

POEM OF THE DAY

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POET OF THE DAY

                     William WORDSWORTH 

POEM OF THE DAY

POEM OF THE DAY

The New Colossus” by Emma Lazarus 

Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame,
With conquering limbs astride from land to land;
Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand
A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame
Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name
Mother of Exiles. From her beacon-hand
Glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command
The air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame.
“Keep, ancient lands, your storied pomp!” cries she
With silent lips. “Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tossed to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!”

POEM OF THE DAY

*The Weary Blues*

*Langston Hughes*

1901 – 1967

Droning a drowsy syncopated tune,

Rocking back and forth to a mellow croon,

     I heard a Negro play.

Down on Lenox Avenue the other night

By the pale dull pallor of an old gas light

     He did a lazy sway . . .

     He did a lazy sway . . .

To the tune o’ those Weary Blues.

With his ebony hands on each ivory key

He made that poor piano moan with melody.

     O Blues!

Swaying to and fro on his rickety stool

He played that sad raggy tune like a musical fool.

     Sweet Blues!

Coming from a black man’s soul.

     O Blues!

In a deep song voice with a melancholy tone

I heard that Negro sing, that old piano moan—

     "Ain’t got nobody in all this world,

       Ain’t got nobody but ma self.

       I’s gwine to quit ma frownin’

       And put ma troubles on the shelf."

Thump, thump, thump, went his foot on the floor.

He played a few chords then he sang some more—

     "I got the Weary Blues

       And I can’t be satisfied.

       Got the Weary Blues

       And can’t be satisfied—

       I ain’t happy no mo’

       And I wish that I had died."

And far into the night he crooned that tune.

The stars went out and so did the moon.

The singer stopped playing and went to bed

While the Weary Blues echoed through his head.

He slept like a rock or a man that's dead.

*From The Weary Blues (Alfred A. Knopf, 1926) by Langston Hughes. This poem is in the public domain.*

POEM OF THE DAY

Return to Sea

Langston Hughes

1901 – 1967

Today I go back to the sea

And the wind-beaten rise of the foam.

Today I go back to the sea—

And it’s just as though I were home. 

It’s just as though I were home again

On this ship of iron and steam,

And it’s just as though I have found again

The broken edge of a dream.

*From Black Opals 1, No. 1 (Spring 1927). This poem is in the public domain*

POEM OF THE DAY

POEM OF THE DAY

POEM OF THE DAY

OUT OF THE MORNING.

by Emily Dickinson 

WILL there really be a morning? 
Is there such a thing as day?
Could I see it from the mountains
If I were as tall as they?

Has it feet like water-lilies?
Has it feathers like a bird?
Is it brought from famous countries
Of which I have never heard?

Oh, some scholar! Oh, some sailor!
Oh, some wise man from the skies!
Please to tell a little pilgrim
Where the place called morning lies!

POEM OF THE DAY