ONLY poems listed here or in the current printed anthology are eligible for the 2016-2017 competition.
In vain to me the smiling Mornings shine,
And reddening Phœbus lifts his golden fire;
The birds in vain their amorous descant join;...
On the lawn at the villa—
That’s the way to start, eh, reader?
We know where we stand—somewhere expensive— ...
O thou bright jewel in my aim I strive
To comprehend thee. Thine own words declare
Wisdom is higher than a fool can reach. ...
The art of losing isn’t hard to master;
so many things seem filled with the intent
to be lost that their loss is no disaster. ...
I don’t love you as if you were a rose of salt, topaz,
or arrow of carnations that propagate fire:
I love you as one loves certain obscure things, ...
Put my glad rags in a cardboard box—
This old jiggerboo never grew mature.
Is everthing in its place except me? ...
The very flatnessof portraits
makes for nostalgia
in the connoisseur....
Downhill I came, hungry, and yet not starved;
Cold, yet had heat within me that was proof
Against the North wind; tired, yet so that rest ...
In October of the year,
he counts potatoes dug from the brown field,
counting the seed, counting ...
I met a traveller from an antique land,
Who said—“Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desert. . . . Near them, on the sand, ...
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