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Your Favorite Poem.

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Scott6373:
Good poetry is like good art:  Completely subjective, and as individual a taste as fingerprints are singular.  I thought it would be good to start a thread, where we could share and compile our favorite poems.  They don't have to be BBM related, but they have to speak to you:  to your heart and soul.  if you feel so inclined, feel free to say a little about why the poem means so much to you.  I'll go first.

Ellemeno:
Cool idea.  I have more than one favorite poem of course.  Here's another Frost:

The way a crow shook down on me
The dust of snow from a hemlock tree
Has given my heart a change of mood
And saved some part of a day I had rued.

moremojo:
O evening star,
You gather back all that dawn scattered,
Calling the lamb to the fold, the goat to the pen, the child to her mother.--Sappho

Sappho is one of my favorites. Her humane, gracious voice speaks calmly and surely across the centuries, reminding us of what is truly important, of why we live. I wish more people would live with the spirit of Sappho in their hearts.

More:

Some would say that no fairer thing can be seen on this dark earth
Than a massed, glittering army, or a swelling fleet of ships--
Not I; I would say it is whatever brings love to life.

And the end:

The moon has sunk, the Pleiades too;
Long night's midnight watches my solitary repose.

Meryl:
I've had a fondness for Edna St. Vincent Millay's verses ever since Jr. High School.  Here's an old favorite that I thought of often when we were in Alberta this summer:

God’s World
 
O WORLD, I cannot hold thee close enough!   
    Thy winds, thy wide grey skies!   
  Thy mists, that roll and rise!   
Thy woods, this autumn day, that ache and sag   
And all but cry with colour!  That gaunt crag          
To crush!  To lift the lean of that black bluff!   
World, World, I cannot get thee close enough!   
 
Long have I known a glory in it all,   
              But never knew I this;   
              Here such a passion is          
As stretcheth me apart,—Lord, I do fear   
Thou’st made the world too beautiful this year;   
My soul is all but out of me,—let fall   
No burning leaf; prithee, let no bird call.   
 

Shasta542:
ENNUI

It's such a bore
Being always poor.

Langston Hughes

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