For Dante Gabriel Rossetti, the road that began at age twenty led inexorably to the consolations of wombats, whiskey, chloral, and the culmination of the grave. From our vantage point, this poem falls ...

But only so an hour. Then leaf subsides to leaf. So Eden sank to grief, So dawn goes down to day. Nothing gold can stay. The heat of autumn is different from the heat of summer. One ripens apples, the ...

Sara Teasdale (1884–1933) is the kind of poet who grows on the reader the more she is read. A native of St. Louis, she lived much of her adult life in New York before her suicide at age 49. From her ...

Dear Readers: Hope you are all having a lovely fall. Please see below some poems that help embrace the season. “That time of year thou mayst in me behold / When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang ...

May Sarton was a novelist and an avid keeper of journals, but she considered herself a poet above all else. Novels and journals, she said in 1983, are concerned with growth over time, but “the poem is ...

is to never rule out love. No matter how old, how sick, how poor or filled with doubt. Love is the one emotion I never will throw out. Bill Scott is a retired maintenance director at Pax Christi ...