<![CDATA[Dead Poets Daily]]>https://www.deadpoetsdaily.comhttps://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/$s_!z_4A!,w_256,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fbucketeer-e05bbc84-baa3-437e-9518-adb32be77984.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F7b481a67-8597-49b1-b0c2-45ed5f95a735_1024x1024.pngDead Poets Dailyhttps://www.deadpoetsdaily.comSubstackThu, 10 Sep 2026 05:39:04 GMT<![CDATA[A Fixed Idea]]>https://www.deadpoetsdaily.com/p/amy-lowell-poem-a-fixed-ideahttps://www.deadpoetsdaily.com/p/amy-lowell-poem-a-fixed-ideaWed, 09 Sep 2026 09:00:46 GMTWhat torture lurks within a single thought
When grown too constant; and however kind,
However welcome still, the weary mind
Aches with its presence. Dull remembrance taught
Remembers on unceasingly; unsought
The old delight is with us but to find
That all recurring joy is pain refined,
Become a habit, and we struggle, caught.
You lie upon my heart as on a nest,
Folded in peace, for you can never know
How crushed I am with having you at rest
Heavy upon my life. I love you so
You bind my freedom from its rightful quest.
In mercy lift your drooping wings and go.

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]]><![CDATA[The Fatal]]>https://www.deadpoetsdaily.com/p/ruben-dario-poem-the-fatalhttps://www.deadpoetsdaily.com/p/ruben-dario-poem-the-fatalTue, 08 Sep 2026 09:00:41 GMTBlessed the tree, which is barely capable of feeling,
and more so the hard stone, for it feels nothing at all;
for there is no greater pain than the pain of being alive,
nor greater sorrow than conscious life.

To be and know nothing, and to be without a certain course,
and the fear of having been, and a future filled with dread…
And the sure horror of being dead tomorrow,
and suffering for life, and for the shadow, and for

what we do not know and barely suspect,
and the flesh that tempts us with its fresh clusters,
and the grave that awaits us with its funeral boughs,

and not knowing where we are going,
nor where we have come from!…

]]><![CDATA[While Loveliness Goes By]]>https://www.deadpoetsdaily.com/p/anna-hempstead-branch-poem-while-loveliness-goes-byhttps://www.deadpoetsdaily.com/p/anna-hempstead-branch-poem-while-loveliness-goes-byMon, 07 Sep 2026 08:59:37 GMTSometimes when all the world seems grey and dun
And nothing beautiful, a voice will cry,
“Look out, look out! Angels are drawing nigh!”
Then my slow burdens leave me one by one,
And swiftly does my heart arise and run
Even like a child while loveliness goes by—
And common folk seem children of the sky,
And common things seem shaped of the sun.

Oh, pitiful! that I who love them, must
So soon perceive their shining garments fade!
And slowly, slowly, from my eyes of trust
Their flaming banners sink into a shade!
While this earth’s sunshine seems the golden dust
Slow settling from that radiant cavalcade.

]]><![CDATA[Bush Clover]]>https://www.deadpoetsdaily.com/p/shonen-haiku-bush-cloverhttps://www.deadpoetsdaily.com/p/shonen-haiku-bush-cloverFri, 04 Sep 2026 08:59:33 GMTA clear blue morning sky,
And wild bush clover in full bloom,
Who could complain? Not I.

]]><![CDATA[The Rhodora]]>https://www.deadpoetsdaily.com/p/ralph-waldo-emerson-poem-the-rhodorahttps://www.deadpoetsdaily.com/p/ralph-waldo-emerson-poem-the-rhodoraThu, 03 Sep 2026 08:59:29 GMTIn May, when sea-winds pierced our solitudes,
I found the fresh Rhodora in the woods,
Spreading its leafless blooms in a damp nook,
To please the desert and the sluggish brook.
The purple petals fallen in the pool
Made the black water with their beauty gay;
Here might the red-bird come his plumes to cool,
And court the flower that cheapens his array.
Rhodora! if the sages ask thee why
This charm is wasted on the earth and sky,
Tell them, dear, that, if eyes were made for seeing,
Then beauty is its own excuse for Being;
Why thou wert there, O rival of the rose!
I never thought to ask; I never knew;
But in my simple ignorance suppose
The self-same power that brought me there, brought you.

]]><![CDATA[The Pool]]>https://www.deadpoetsdaily.com/p/hilda-doolittle-poem-the-poolhttps://www.deadpoetsdaily.com/p/hilda-doolittle-poem-the-poolWed, 02 Sep 2026 08:59:30 GMTAre you alive?
I touch you.
You quiver like a sea-fish.
I cover you with my net.
What are you—banded one?

]]><![CDATA[The Night Has a Thousand Eyes]]>https://www.deadpoetsdaily.com/p/francis-william-bourdillon-the-night-has-a-thousand-eyeshttps://www.deadpoetsdaily.com/p/francis-william-bourdillon-the-night-has-a-thousand-eyesTue, 01 Sep 2026 08:59:27 GMTThe night has a thousand eyes,
And the day but one;
Yet the light of the bright world dies
With the dying sun.

The mind has a thousand eyes,
And the heart but one:
Yet the light of a whole life dies
When love is done.

A note to readers: If you can support Dead Poets Daily, please consider upgrading to a paid subscription from US$2.50 per month. As a paid subscriber, you’ll receive a complimentary copy of the Flickerwell Classics ebook ‘A Year of Japanese Epigrams’, valued at US$19.99.

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]]><![CDATA[Invitation to Love]]>https://www.deadpoetsdaily.com/p/paul-laurence-dunbar-poem-invitation-to-lovehttps://www.deadpoetsdaily.com/p/paul-laurence-dunbar-poem-invitation-to-loveMon, 31 Aug 2026 08:59:31 GMTCome when the nights are bright with stars
Or come when the moon is mellow;
Come when the sun his golden bars
Drops on the hay-field yellow.
Come in the twilight soft and gray,
Come in the night or come in the day,
Come, O love, whene’er you may,
And you are welcome, welcome.

You are sweet, O Love, dear Love,
You are soft as the nesting dove.
Come to my heart and bring it to rest
As the bird flies home to its welcome nest.

Come when my heart is full of grief
Or when my heart is merry;
Come with the falling of the leaf
Or with the redd’ning cherry.
Come when the year’s first blossom blows,
Come when the summer gleams and glows,
Come with the winter’s drifting snows,
And you are welcome, welcome.

]]><![CDATA[An Old Tibetan Rug]]>https://www.deadpoetsdaily.com/p/else-lasker-schuler-poem-an-old-tibetan-rughttps://www.deadpoetsdaily.com/p/else-lasker-schuler-poem-an-old-tibetan-rugFri, 28 Aug 2026 08:59:28 GMTYour soul, which loves my soul,
is woven with it into the Tibetan rug.

Ray upon ray, enamoured colours,
stars that wooed each other the length of heaven.

Our feet rest upon this precious thing,
a thousand-thousand stitches wide.

Sweet son of the lama, on a throne of musk plants,
how long, I wonder, has your mouth kissed mine,
and cheek against cheek, through brightly knotted ages?

]]><![CDATA[The Hearth, the Lamp’s Narrow Glow]]>https://www.deadpoetsdaily.com/p/paul-verlaine-the-hearth-the-lamps-narrow-glowhttps://www.deadpoetsdaily.com/p/paul-verlaine-the-hearth-the-lamps-narrow-glowThu, 27 Aug 2026 08:59:48 GMTThe hearth, the lamp’s narrow glow;
Reverie, one finger pressed against the temple,
And eyes losing themselves among beloved eyes;
The hour of steaming tea and books now closed;
The sweetness of feeling the evening draw to its end;
The charming weariness, and cherished anticipation
Of the bridal darkness and the gentle night—
Oh! all this my tender dream pursues
Without respite, through every futile delay,
Impatient with the months, furious with the weeks!

]]><![CDATA[Ecstasy]]>https://www.deadpoetsdaily.com/p/sarojini-naidu-poem-ecstasyhttps://www.deadpoetsdaily.com/p/sarojini-naidu-poem-ecstasyWed, 26 Aug 2026 08:49:27 GMTCover mine eyes, O my Love!
Mine eyes that are weary of bliss
As of light that is poignant and strong
O silence my lips with a kiss,
My lips that are weary of song!

Shelter my soul, O my love!
My soul is bent low with the pain
And the burden of love, like the grace
Of a flower that is smitten with rain:
O shelter my soul from thy face!

]]><![CDATA[The Panther]]>https://www.deadpoetsdaily.com/p/rainer-maria-rilke-poem-the-pantherhttps://www.deadpoetsdaily.com/p/rainer-maria-rilke-poem-the-pantherTue, 25 Aug 2026 08:59:43 GMTHis weary glance, from passing by the bars,
Has grown into a dazed and vacant stare;
It seems to him there are a thousand bars
And out beyond those bars the empty air.

The pad of his strong feet, that ceaseless sound
Of supple tread behind the iron bands,
Is like a dance of strength circling around,
While in the circle, stunned, a great will stands.

But there are times the pupils of his eyes
Dilate, the strong limbs stand alert, apart,
Tense in the stillness through which visions pass
To enter his heart, and cease to be.

]]><![CDATA[Snowfall]]>https://www.deadpoetsdaily.com/p/ada-negri-poem-snowfallhttps://www.deadpoetsdaily.com/p/ada-negri-poem-snowfallMon, 24 Aug 2026 08:59:38 GMTAcross the fields and roads
So silent and so light,
The snow, in whirling flight,
Descends.

The white drift dances there
Across the spacious sky,
Then settles on the earth nearby,
Weary.

In a thousand motionless shapes
Upon the roofs and chimneys,
On headstones and in gardens,
It sleeps.

All around is peace:
The world, in deep oblivion,
Indifferent, makes no sound
And is still.

Yet in the boundless calm
The heart returns to memory,
And thinks of a love
Long since asleep.

A note to readers: If you can support Dead Poets Daily, please consider a paid subscription from US$2.50 per month. As a paid subscriber, you’ll receive a complimentary copy of the poem-a-day ebook ‘A Year of Japanese Epigrams’, valued at US$19.99.

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]]><![CDATA[The Moon Has Set]]>https://www.deadpoetsdaily.com/p/sappho-poem-the-moon-has-sethttps://www.deadpoetsdaily.com/p/sappho-poem-the-moon-has-setFri, 21 Aug 2026 08:59:05 GMTThe moon has left the sky,
Lost is the Pleiads’ light;
It is midnight,
And time slips by,
But on my couch alone I lie.

]]><![CDATA[I Do Not Know What I Seek Eternally]]>https://www.deadpoetsdaily.com/p/rosalia-de-castro-poem-i-do-not-know-what-i-seek-eternallyhttps://www.deadpoetsdaily.com/p/rosalia-de-castro-poem-i-do-not-know-what-i-seek-eternallyThu, 20 Aug 2026 08:59:40 GMTI do not know what I seek eternally
on earth, in air, and in the heavens;
I do not know what I seek; but it is something
I lost, I know not when, and cannot find,
though I dream it dwells, invisible,
in all that I touch and all that I see.
Happiness, I shall not find you again
on earth, in air, nor in the heavens,
though I know that you exist
and are no idle dream!

]]><![CDATA[Where the Mind is Without Fear]]>https://www.deadpoetsdaily.com/p/rabindranath-tagore-poem-where-the-mind-is-without-fearhttps://www.deadpoetsdaily.com/p/rabindranath-tagore-poem-where-the-mind-is-without-fearWed, 19 Aug 2026 08:59:19 GMTWhere the mind is without fear and the head is held high;
Where knowledge is free;
Where the world has not been broken up into fragments by narrow domestic walls;
Where words come out from the depth of truth;
Where tireless striving stretches its arms towards perfection;
Where the clear stream of reason has not lost its way into the dreary desert sand of dead habit;
Where the mind is led forward by thee into ever-widening thought and action
Into that heaven of freedom, my guide, let my country awake.

]]><![CDATA[The Colour of the Flowers]]>https://www.deadpoetsdaily.com/p/ono-no-komachi-the-colour-of-the-flowershttps://www.deadpoetsdaily.com/p/ono-no-komachi-the-colour-of-the-flowersTue, 18 Aug 2026 08:59:06 GMTThe flowers’ colours
have faded with time,
while, in vain,
I have weathered this world—
gazing through the falling rain.

]]><![CDATA[Requiescat]]>https://www.deadpoetsdaily.com/p/oscar-wilde-poem-requiescathttps://www.deadpoetsdaily.com/p/oscar-wilde-poem-requiescatMon, 17 Aug 2026 08:59:27 GMTTread lightly, she is near
Under the snow,
Speak gently, she can hear
The daisies grow.

All her bright golden hair
Tarnished with rust,
She that was young and fair
Fallen to dust.

Lily-like, white as snow,
She hardly knew
She was a woman, so
Sweetly she grew.

Coffin-board, heavy stone,
Lie on her breast,
I vex my heart alone
She is at rest.

Peace, Peace, she cannot hear
Lyre or sonnet,
All my life’s buried here,
Heap earth upon it.

]]><![CDATA[In After Days]]>https://www.deadpoetsdaily.com/p/austin-dobson-poem-in-after-dayshttps://www.deadpoetsdaily.com/p/austin-dobson-poem-in-after-daysFri, 14 Aug 2026 08:59:02 GMTIn after days when grasses high
O’er-top the stone where I shall lie,
Though ill or well the world adjust
My slender claim to honoured dust,
I shall not question nor reply.

I shall not see the morning sky;
I shall not hear the night-wind sigh;
I shall be mute, as all men must,
In after days.

But yet, now living, fain were I
That some one then should testify,
Saying—“He held his pen in trust
To Art, not serving shame or lust.”
Will none?—Then let my memory die
In after days!

A note to readers: If you can support Dead Poets Daily, please consider a paid subscription—and receive a complimentary copy of the Flickerwell Classics ebook ‘A Year of Japanese Epigrams’ valued at US$19.99:

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]]><![CDATA[Blue Squills]]>https://www.deadpoetsdaily.com/p/sara-teasdale-poem-blue-squillshttps://www.deadpoetsdaily.com/p/sara-teasdale-poem-blue-squillsThu, 13 Aug 2026 09:00:27 GMTHow many million Aprils came
Before I ever knew
How white a cherry bough could be,
A bed of squills, how blue!

And many a dancing April
When life is done with me,
Will lift the blue flame of the flower
And the white flame of the tree.

Oh burn me with your beauty, then,
Oh hurt me, tree and flower,
Lest in the end death try to take
Even this glistening hour.

O shaken flowers, O shimmering trees,
O sunlit white and blue,
Wound me, that I, through endless sleep,
May bear the scar of you.

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