ONLY poems listed here or in the current printed anthology are eligible for the 2018-2019 competition.
O what can ail thee, knight-at-arms,
Alone and palely loitering?
The sedge has withered from the lake, ...
Stand on the highest pavement of the stair—
Lean on a garden urn—
Weave, weave the sunlight in your hair— ...
I will arise and go now, and go to Innisfree,
And a small cabin build there, of clay and wattles made;
Nine bean-rows will I have there, a hive for the honey-bee,...
It was a picture I had after the war.
A bombed English church. I was too young
to know the word English or war,...
Swear by the olive in the God-kissed land—
There is no sugar in the promised land.
I don't know how it happened, but I fell—
and I was immense, one dislocated arm
wedged between two buildings. I felt some ribs ...
Reading in the paper a summary
of a five-year psychological study
that shows those perceived as most beautiful...
‘O Jesus Christ! I’m hit,’ he said; and died.
Whether he vainly cursed or prayed indeed,
The Bullets chirped—In vain, vain, vain! ...
“I am playing my oldest tunes,” declared she,
“All the old tunes I know,—
Those I learnt ever so long ago.”...
Dumped wet and momentary on a dull ground
that’s been clear but clearly sleeping, for days.
Last snow melts as it falls, piles up slush, runs in first light...
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