101 Poems, Number 2

Favorite Poems Throughout My Life

2: “Mending Wall,” in North of Boston (1914), by Robert Frost (1874–1963)

My mother loved this poem, so

I learned it when she still was here.*

And driving through the woods, you know,

I’d say it to her when we would near

A wall of rocks that we could see

Back in the woods, close to the road.

She always loved Frost’s poetry,

And so I looked at her; I slowed;

And started in: “Something there is

That doesn’t love a wall.” I’m sure

She was surprised, at first. (No whiz

Was I, a lad. I found the cure!)

But now I cannot say these words

And fail to think of Mother’s eyes—

They darted up like startled birds

When I began—her pure surprise.

*She died on March 10, 2018, at age 98.

Link to poem. 

101 Poems, Number 3

Favorite Poems Throughout My Life

3: “A Psalm of Life,” 1838, by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1807–82)

Another long one by the guy—

The fellow who was once the rage—

The poet, scholar—even sage—

Who ruled his world. And here is why:

He told some stories in his verse—

He liked a pounding rhythm, too—

He liked to rhyme (could do it, too!)—

And so he filled his swelling purse.

And this one has some famous lines—

Like “footsteps on the sands of time”—

(And time he matches with sublime)—

He stays within the strict confines

Of strict conventional poetry—

And so in later years he fell

From prominence (a tale to tell)—

But much he wrote appeals to me.

Link to poem.  

101 Poems, Number 4

Favorite Poems Throughout My Life

4: “Promissory Note,” in Strong Is Your Hold (2006), by Galway Kinnell (1927–2014)

“If I die before you”—what a way

To start a poem! There’s no play

In such a line. So dark the day

That such a thought comes in your head—

The thought that you will first be dead—

Before your lover. (Feel the dread.)

But here’s a thought that’s even worse--

Just think another way—rehearse

Your lover’s death. And choose your hearse.

Link to poem. 

101 Poems, Number 5

Favorite Poems Throughout My Life

5: “Sonnet XIII” (“Read history”), from Mine the Harvest (1949), by Edna St. Vincent Millay (1892–1950)*

“But what a shining animal

Is man,” Millay here writes

In this, a famous sonnet that

Achieves a sonnet’s heights.

So many other species can’t

Begin to know of death,

Of future suffering and pain—

Can’t dread a final breath.

But we all know what lies ahead—

And yet, somehow, we still

Enjoy our lives—repress the fear—

Enjoy each mortal thrill.

*final lines used as an epigraph for Judith Guest’s Ordinary People, 1976; film in 1980, dir. Robert Redford

Link to poem (scroll down to #13).  

101 Poems, Number 6

Favorite Poems Throughout My Life

6: “O Captain! My Captain!” 1865, by Walt Whitman (1819–92)

The death of Lincoln (curse that Booth!)—

A murder hitting Whitman hard—

And so he sat and wrote the truth,

This gifted, unconventional bard.

Here, Lincoln’s captain of our ship—

The speaker finds him on the deck—

He will not make another trip—

The speaker is in grief, a wreck.

He grieves for what we all have lost—

And also for what might have been.

He calculates the grievous cost—

And writes it with his magic pen.

Link to poem.

101 Poems, Number 7

Favorite Poems Throughout My Life

7: “Boy at the Window,” in New Yorker, January 5, 1952, by Richard Wilbur (1921–2017)

It seems I’m fond of Wilbur, yes?

(It wasn’t hard for you to guess?)

And this one is about a child—

A winter’s day—the weather’s wild.

He sees a snowman in the yard—

Is worried for it—worries hard.

And Wilbur moves inside the heart—

The snowman’s heart—so clever, smart.

And then we see the snowman cry—
In empathy. (And so did I.)

Link to poem.  

101 Poems, Number 8

Favorite Poems Throughout My Life

8: “Crossing the Bar,” 1889, by Alfred Lord Tennyson (1809–92)

I heard this first in ’63—

My great-grandfather died that year.*

And for his service, finally,

The preacher read this. To my ear—

So long ago—I didn’t care

For what I heard. Seemed trite, I guess.

But as my years have come to wear

On me, I’ve come to reassess

So many things. I’ve memorized

This poem. Several times a week

I mumble it—it’s vaporized

My youth’s disdain with words unique.

*Warren A. Lanterman (1866–1963)

Link to poem.