Poem of the day ·
Sonnet XIX: You Cannot Love
by Michael Drayton, 1563–1631
To Humor
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Poem of the day ·
by Michael Drayton, 1563–1631
To Humor
In translation
Under my house
an inchworm
measuring the joists.
A poem—
is just one more
scrap of paper
that has sailed off the table
in a bottle
with a cry for help.
Oh, my love
If you were at the level of my madness,
You would cast away your jewelry,
Sell all your bracelets,
And sleep in my eyes.
Mary Oliver86 poems · 1935–2019
Philip Larkin95 poems · 1922–1985
Pablo Neruda44 poems · 1904–1973
W. H. Auden75 poems · 1907–1973
William Butler Yeats363 poems · 1865–1939
Thomas Hardy217 poems · 1840–1928
Siegfried Sassoon146 poems · 1886–1967
Rainer Maria Rilke104 poems · 1875–1926
Elizabeth Bishop65 poems · 1911–1979
D.H. Lawrence109 poems · 1885–1930
Dylan Thomas65 poems · 1914–1953
Christina Rossetti56 poems · 1830–1894