Poets From The United States

"No more snickering," Alice Walker counseled, at "the stiff, struggling, ambivalent lines," of the first published African-American poet, Phillis Wheatley. This kidnapped and enslaved Black woman wrote in the only materials available to her, in the only language in which she could write, and in the only cadence she knew as song. Of Wheatley, Walker also wrote: "It is not so much what she sang, as that she kept alive... the notion of song."

"At the library I would go the shelves alphabetically. I was drawn to anyone with a female name, with a Latino or Spanish name. There were very, very few. But as a teenager I discovered African American poetry. Gwendolyn Brooks was the first. Then Phillis Wheatley. I really identified with this slave woman writing poetry to assert and affirm her humanity. Suddenly my eyes were open to history. There was a whole explosion of African-American women poets-Audre Lorde, Nikki Giovanni, June Jordan. I have a poem in my head that's going to take me years to write down. Its working title is "On Thanking Black Muses." I owe them, because poetry really changed my life, saved it."

"When Gallic powers Columbia's fury found; And so may you, whoever dares disgrace The land of freedom's heaven-defended race! Fix'd are the eyes of nations on the scales, For in their hopes Columbia's arm prevails."

"Anon Britannia droops the pensive head, While round increase the rising hills of dead. Ah! cruel blindness to Columbia's state! Lament thy thirst of boundless power too late. Proceed, great chief, with virtue on thy side,"

"Thy ev'ry action let the goddess guide. A crown, a mansion, and a throne that shine, With gold unfading, ! be thine."

"Thee, first in peace and honor - we demand The grace and glory of thy martial band. Fam'd for thy valor, for thy virtues more, Hear every tongue thy guardian aid implore! One century scarce perform'd its destined round,"

"Olive and laurel binds her golden hair: Wherever shines this native of the skies, Unnumber'd charms and recent graces rise. Muse! bow propitious while my pen relates How pour her armies through a thousand gates,"

"As when Eolus heaven's fair face deforms, Enwrapp'd in tempest and a night of storms; Astonish'd ocean feels the wild uproar, The refluent surges beat the sounding shore; Or thick as leaves in Autumn's golden reign,"

"Your favour of the 26th of October did not reach my hands 'till the middle of December. Time enough, you will say, to have given an answer ere this. Granted. But a variety of important occurrences, continually interposing to distract the mind and withdraw the attention, I hope will apologize for the delay, and plead my excuse for the seeming, but not real neglect. I thank you most sincerely for your polite notice of me in the elegant lines you inclosed; and, however undeserving I may be of such encomium and panegyric, the style and manner exhibit a striking proof of your poetical talents; in honor of which, and as a tribute justly due to you, I would have published the poem had I not been apprehensive that, while I only meant to give the world this new instance of your genius, I might have incurred the imputation of vanity. This, and nothing else, determined me not to give it place in the public prints. If you should ever come to Cambridge, or near headquarters. I shall be happy to see a person so favored by the muses, and to whom Nature has been so liberal and beneficent in her dispensations. I am, with great Respect, etc."

"Such, and so many, moves the warrior's train. In bright array they seek the work of war, Where high unfurl'd the ensign waves in air. Shall I to Washington their praise recite? Enough thou know'st them in the fields of fight."

"No more, America, in mournful strain Of wrongs, and grievance unredress'd complain, No longer shalt thou dread the iron chain, Which wanton Tyranny with lawless hand Had made, and with it meant t' enslave the land. Should you, my lord, while you peruse my song, Wonder from whence my love of Freedom sprung, Whence flow these wishes for the common good, By feeling hearts alone best understood, I, young in life, by seeming cruel fate Was snatch'd from Afric's fancy'd happy seat: What pangs excruciating must molest, What sorrows labour in my parent's breast? Steel'd was that soul and by no misery mov'd That from a father seiz'd his babe belov'd: Such, such my case. And can I then but pray Others may never feel tyrannic sway?"

"But, Madam, let your grief be laid aside, And let the fountain of your tears be dry'd, In vain they flow to wet the dusty plain, Your sighs are wafted to the skies in vain, Your pains they witness, but they can no more, While Death reigns tyrant o'er this mortal shore."

"Some view our sable race with scornful eye, "Their colour is a diabolic die." Remember, Christians, Negroes, black as Cain, May be refin'd, and join th' angelic train."

"But how is Mneme dreaded by the race, Who scorn her warnings and despise her grace? By her unveil'd each horrid crime appears, Her awful hand a cup of wormwood bears. Days, years mispent, O what a hell of woe! Hers the worst tortures that our souls can know."

"Celestial choir! enthron'd in realms of light, Columbia's scenes of glorious toils I write. While freedom's cause her anxious breast alarms, She flashes dreadful in refulgent arms."

"See mother earth her offspring's fate bemoan, And nations gaze at scenes before unknown! See the bright beams of heaven's revolving light Involved in sorrows and the veil of night! The goddess comes, she moves divinely fair,"

"Creation smiles in various beauty gay While day to night, and night succeeds day"

"Phyllis's poems do credit to nature—and put art—merely as art—to the blush.—It reflects nothing either to the glory or generosity of her master—if she is still his slave—except he glories in the low vanity of having in his wanton power a mind animated by Heaven—a genius superior to himself—the list of splendid—titled—learned names, in confirmation of her being the real authoress.—alas! shews how very poor the acquisition of wealth and knowledge are—without generosity—feeling—and humanity.—These good great folks—all know—and perhaps admired—nay, praised Genius in bondage."

"When first thy pencil did these beaties give And breathing figures learnt from thee to live"

"A PHILLIS rises, and the world no more Denies the sacred right to mental pow’r; While, Heav’n-inspir’d, she proves her Country’s claim To Freedom, and her own to deathless Fame."

"Thou sorrow, venom Elfe. Is this thy play, To spin a web out of thyselfe To Catch a Fly? For Why? [...] To tangle Adams race In's stratigems To their Destructions, spoil'd, made base By venom things Damn'd Sins."

"Am I new minted by thy Stamp indeed? Mine Eyes are dim; I cannot clearly see. Be thou my Spectacles that I may read Thine Image and Inscription stampt on mee."

"A rose to the living is more Than sumptuous wreaths to the dead."

"If I knew you and you knew me— If both of us could clearly see, And with an inner sight divine The meaning of your heart and mine I'm sure that we would differ less And clasp our hands in friendliness: Our thoughts would pleasantly agree, If I knew you and you knew me."

"Though life is made up of mere bubbles, 'T is better than many aver, For while we've a whole lot of troubles, The most of them never occur."

"As though there were a tie And obligation to posterity. We get them, bear them, breed, and nurse: What has posterity done for us. That we, lest they their rights should lose, Should trust our necks to gripe of noose?"

"No man e'er felt the halter draw, With good opinion of the law."

"No man can feel himself alone The while he bravely stands Between the best friends ever known His two good, honest hands."

"But optics sharp it needs, I ween, To see what is not to be seen."

"But as some muskets so contrive it As oft to miss the mark they drive at, And though well aimed at duck or plover, Bear wide, and kick their owners over."

"Gather leaves and grasses, Love, to-day; For the Autumn passes Soon away. Chilling winds are blowing. It will soon be snowing."

"Ah, we fondly cherish Faded things That had better perish. Memory clings To each leaf it saves. Chilly winds are blowing. It will soon be snowing On our graves."

"I love you because You're a sweet little fool!"

"New England's dead. New England's dead! On every hill they lie; On every field of strife, made red By bloody victory."

"The land is holy where they fought And holy where they fell; For by their blood that land was bought, The land they loved so well."

"Friends I have had both old and young, And ale we drank and songs we sung: Enough you know when this is said, That, one and all, they died in bed. In bed they died and I’ll not go Where all my friends have perished so."

"I send thee a shell from the ocean-beach; But listen thou well, for my shell hath speech. Hold to thine ear And plain thou'lt hear Tales of ships."

"Of Christian souls more have been wrecked on shore Than ever were lost at sea."

"Nowhere to go but out, Nowhere to come but back."

"If I should die to-night And you should come in deepest grief and woe— And say:—"Here's that ten dollars that I owe," I might arise in my large white cravat And say, "What's that?""

"Nothing to do but work, Nothing to eat but food, Nothing to wear but clothes To keep one from going nude."

"Nothing to breathe but air Quick as a flash 'tis gone; Nowhere to fall but off, Nowhere to stand but on."

"These in the robings of glory, Those in the gloom of defeat, All with the battle-blood gory, In the dusk of eternity meet;— Under the sod and the dew, Waiting the judgment-day;— Under the laurel the Blue, Under the willow, the Gray."

"A man sat on a rock and sought Refreshment from his thumb; A dinotherium wandered by And scared him some. His name was Smith. The kind of rock He sat upon was shale. One feature quite distinguished him— He had a tail."

"Nature abhors imperfect work And on it lays her ban; And all creation must despise A tailless man."

"Accident ruled every corner of the universe except the chambers of the human heart."

"We should recognize that schools will never solve the bedrock problems of education because the problems are problems of families, of cultural pressures that the schools reflect and thus cannot really remedy."

"The status quo was rote memorization and recitation in classrooms thronged with passive children who were sternly disciplined when they expressed individual needs."

"That which we look on with unselfish love And true humility is surely ours, Even as a lake looks at the stars above And makes within itself a heaven of stars."

"That's a 7.76mm round, you idiots, if you fire it into the air it comes to earth you know not where, like on some little kid's soft-skulled head, and that's the end of the kid. They're too stupid to even figure that much out."