First Known When Lost

Each morning, I read a poem.  A long-time habit.  I began a recent spring day with this:      Tilling the field; From the temple among the t...

On a recent afternoon walk, I heard an unseen owl call from somewhere off in the forest: " Hoo-hoo . . .  hoo-hoo ."  This seemed ...

Solely by happenstance, this observation surfaced out of my memory during the past week: "The future's uncertain and the end is alw...

At Christmas, I turn to Thomas Hardy.  (As well as to George Mackay Brown (for instance, " Christmas Poem ": "We are folded ...

Most of the leaves have fallen.  One day last week -- a proverbial "brilliant autumn day" -- I walked past a grove of big-leaf map...

Has any poet written as many beautiful and memorable lines as Yeats?  I confess that I am biased by circumstances.  I discovered the poetry ...

Once again, September.  The past few weeks, the afternoons have sometimes been as warm as midsummer.  But the leaves -- ah, the leaves: gree...

One morning this week, as I walked along a shadowy but sun-dappled path through a grove of trees, I came upon a single golden pine needle ho...

As I am wont to do several times a year, I recently returned to the poetry of Walter de la Mare.  At the beginning of last week, I revisited...