Best Famous Attach To Poems

Here is a collection of the all-time best famous Attach To poems. This is a select list of the best famous Attach To poetry. Reading, writing, and enjoying famous Attach To poetry (as well as classical and contemporary poems) is a great past time. These top poems are the best examples of attach to poems.

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• All Famous Attach To Poems

Written by Sylvia Plath | Vanity Fair Through frost-thick weather This witch sidles, fingers crooked, as if Caught in a hazardous medium that might Merely by its continuing Attach her to heaven. At eye's envious corner Crow's-feet copy veining on a stained leaf; Cold squint steals sky's color; while bruit Of bells calls holy ones, her tongue Backtalks at the raven Claeving furred air Over her skull's midden; no knife Rivals her whetted look, divining what conceit Waylays simple girls, church-going, And what heart's oven Craves most to cook batter Rich in strayings with every amorous oaf, Ready, for a trinket, To squander owl-hours on bracken bedding, Flesh unshriven. Against virgin prayer This sorceress sets mirrors enough To distract beauty's thought; Lovesick at first fond song, Each vain girl's driven To believe beyond heart's flare No fire is, nor in any book proof Sun hoists soul up after lids fall shut; So she wills all to the black king. The worst sloven Vies with best queen over Right to blaze as satan's wife; Housed in earth, those million brides shriek out. Some burn short, some long, Staked in pride's coven.

Written by Robert Browning | Any Wife To Any Husband I My love, this is the bitterest, that thou Who art all truth and who dost love me now As thine eyes say, as thy voice breaks to say— Shouldst love so truly and couldst love me still A whole long life through, had but love its will, Would death that leads me from thee brook delay! II I have but to be by thee, and thy hand Would never let mine go, thy heart withstand The beating of my heart to reach its place. When should I look for thee and feel thee gone? When cry for the old comfort and find none? Never, I know! Thy soul is in thy face. III Oh, I should fade—'tis willed so! might I save, Galdly I would, whatever beauty gave Joy to thy sense, for that was precious too. It is not to be granted. But the soul Whence the love comes, all ravage leaves that whole; Vainly the flesh fades—soul makes all things new. IV And 'twould not be because my eye grew dim Thou couldst not find the love there, thanks to Him Who never is dishonoured in the spark He gave us from his fire of fires, and bade Remember whence it sprang nor be afraid While that burns on, though all the rest grow dark. V So, how thou wouldst be perfect, white and clean Outside as inside, soul and soul's demesne Alike, this body given to show it by! Oh, three-parts through the worst of life's abyss, What plaudits from the next world after this, Couldst thou repeat a stroke and gain the sky! VI And is it not the bitterer to think That, disengage our hands and thou wilt sink Although thy love was love in very deed? I know that nature! Pass a festive day Thou dost not throw its relic-flower away Nor bid its music's loitering echo speed. VII Thou let'st the stranger's glove lie where it fell; If old things remain old things all is well, For thou art grateful as becomes man best: And hadst thou only heard me play one tune, Or viewed me from a window, not so soon With thee would such things fade as with the rest. VIII I seem to see! we meet and part: 'tis brief: The book I opened keeps a folded leaf, The very chair I sat on, breaks the rank; That is a portrait of me on the wall— Three lines, my face comes at so slight a call; And for all this, one little hour's to thank. IX But now, because the hour through years was fixed, Because our inmost beings met amd mixed, Because thou once hast loved me—wilt thou dare Say to thy soul and Who may list beside, "Therefore she is immortally my bride, Chance cannot change that love, nor time impair. X "So, what if in the dusk of life that's left, I, a tired traveller, of my sun bereft, Look from my path when, mimicking the same, The fire-fly glimpses past me, come and gone? - Where was it till the sunset? where anon It will be at the sunrise! what's to blame?" XI Is it so helpful to thee? canst thou take The mimic up, nor, for the true thing's sake, Put gently by such efforts at at beam? Is the remainder of the way so long Thou need'st the little solace, thou the strong? Watch out thy watch, let weak ones doze and dream! XII "—Ah, but the fresher faces! Is it true," Thou'lt ask, "some eyes are beautiful and new? Some hair,—how can one choose but grasp such wealth? And if a man would press his lips to lips Fresh as the wilding hedge-rose-cup there slips The dew-drop out of, must it be by stealth? XIII "It cannot change the love kept still for Her, Much more than, such a picture to prefer Passing a day with, to a room's bare side. The painted form takes nothing she possessed, Yet while the Titian's Venus lies at rest A man looks. Once more, what is there to chide?" XIV So must I see, from where I sit and watch, My own self sell myself, my hand attach Its warrant to the very thefts from me— Thy singleness of soul that made me proud, Thy purity of heart I loved aloud, Thy man's truth I was bold to bid God see! XV Love so, then, if thou wilt! Give all thou canst Away to the new faces—disentranced— (Say it and think it) obdurate no more, Re-issue looks and words from the old mint— Pass them afresh, no matter whose the print Image and superscription once they bore! XVI Re-coin thyself and give it them to spend,— It all comes to the same thing at the end, Since mine thou wast, mine art, and mine shalt be, Faithful or faithless, sealing up the sum Or lavish of my treasure, thou must come Back to the heart's place here I keep for thee! XVII Only, why should it be with stain at all? Why must I, 'twixt the leaves of coronal, Put any kiss of pardon on thy brow? Why need the other women know so much And talk together, "Such the look and such The smile he used to love with, then as now!" XVIII Might I die last and shew thee! Should I find Such hardship in the few years left behind, If free to take and light my lamp, and go Into thy tomb, and shut the door and sit Seeing thy face on those four sides of it The better that they are so blank, I know! XIX Why, time was what I wanted, to turn o'er Within my mind each look, get more and more By heart each word, too much to learn at first, And join thee all the fitter for the pause 'Neath the low door-way's lintel. That were cause For lingering, though thou called'st, If I durst! XX And yet thou art the nobler of us two. What dare I dream of, that thou canst not do, Outstripping my ten small steps with one stride? I'll say then, here's a trial and a task— Is it to bear?—if easy, I'll not ask— Though love fail, I can trust on in thy pride. XXI Pride?—when those eyes forestall the life behind The death I have to go through!—when I find, Now that I want thy help most, all of thee! What did I fear? Thy love shall hold me fast Until the little minute's sleep is past And I wake saved.—And yet, it will not be!

Written by Coventry Patmore | The Foreign Land A woman is a foreign land, Of which, though there he settle young, A man will ne'er quite understand The customs, politics, and tongue. The foolish hie them post-haste through, See fashions odd, and prospects fair, Learn of the language, "How d'ye do," And go and brag they have been there. The most for leave to trade apply, For once, at Empire's seat, her heart, Then get what knowledge ear and eye Glean chancewise in the life-long mart. And certain others, few and fit, Attach them to the Court, and see The Country's best, its accent hit, And partly sound its polity.

Written by Emile Verhaeren | Because you came one day Because you came one day so simply along the paths of devotion and took my life into your beneficent hands, I love and praise and thank you with my senses, with my heart and brain, with my whole being stretched like a torch towards your unquenchable goodness and charity. Since that day, I know what love, pure and bright as the dew, falls from you on to my calmed soul. I feel myself yours by all the burning ties that attach flames to their fire; all my body, all my soul mounts towards you with tireless ardour; I never cease to brood on your deep earnestness and your charm, so much so that suddenly I feel my eyes fill deliciously with unforgettable tears. And I make towards you, happy and calm, with the proud desire to be for ever the most steadfast of joys to you. All our affection flames about us; every echo of my being responds to your call; the hour is unique and sanctified with ecstasy, and my fingers are tremulous at the mere touching of your forehead, as though they brushed the wing of your thoughts.

Written by Howard Nemerov | Amateurs of Heaven Two lovers to a midnight meadow came High in the hills, to lie there hand and hand Like effigies and look up at the stars, The never-setting ones set in the North To circle the Pole in idiot majesty, And wonder what was given them to wonder. Being amateurs, they knew some of the names By rote, and could attach the names to stars And draw the lines invisible between That humbled all the heavenly things to farm And forest things and even kitchen things, A bear, a wagon, a long handled ladle; Could wonder at the shadow of the world That brought those lights to light, could wonder too At the ancestral eyes and the dark mind Behind them that had reached the length of light To name the stars and draw the animals And other stuff that dangled in the height, Or was it the deep? Did they look in Or out, the lovers? till they grew bored As even lovers will, and got up to go, But drunken now, with staggering and dizziness, Because the spell of earth had moved them so, Hallucinating that the heavens moved.

Written by Omar Khayyam | In Heaven's name! with what hope does the sage attach In Heaven's name! with what hope does the sage attach his heart to the illusory treasures of this palace of misfortune? Oh! that the One who gave me the name of drunkard would recant his error, for how can he see the tavern's sign from his exalted abode.

Written by Omar Khayyam | From the cookery of this world, thou only absorbest From the cookery of this world, thou only absorbest the smoke. How long, plunged in the search for being and annihilation, wilt thou be the prey of sorrow? This world contains only loss for those who attach themselves to it. Now disregard this loss, and all for thee will benefit become.