What Poem Moved You the Most?

To the Virgins, to Make Much of Time

Gather ye rosebuds while ye may,
Old time is still a-flying;
And the same flower that smiles today
Tomorrow will be dying.

The glorious lamp of heaven the sun,
The higher he's a-getting,
The sooner will his race be run,
And nearer he's to setting.

That age is best which is the first,
When youth and blood are warmer;
But being spent, the worse, and worst
Times still succeed the former.

Then be not coy, but use your time,
And, while ye may, go marry;
For, having lost but once your prime,
You may forever tarry.

Robert Herrick (1591 - 1674)

I love this poem as it speaks of the cycles of a life, the fears that many have about missing their chances, as well as the innocence and expectations abundant at the time.

L'Eternité:

Elle est retrouvée.
Quoi? - L'Eternité.
C'est la mer allée
Avec le soleil.

Ame sentinelle,
Murmurons l'aveu
De la nuit si nulle
Et du jour en feu.

Des humains suffrages,
Des communs élans
Là tu te dégages
Et voles selon.

Puisque de vous seules,
Braises de satin,
Le devoir d'exhale
Sans qu'on dise: enfin.

Là pas d'espérance,
Nul orietur
Science avec patience,
Le supplice est sûr.

Elle est retrouvée.
Quoi? - L'Eternité.
C'est la mer allée
Avec le soleil.

Arthur Rimbaud (May 1872)

This poem moved me so much that I cried the first time I read it!
It also made me love poetry!

(Here is a translation fro you guys!):

It has been found again.
What? - Eternity.
It is the sea fled away
With the sun.
Sentinel soul,
Let us whisper the confession
Of the night so full of nothingness
And of the day on fire
From human approbation,
From common urges
You diverge here
And fly off accordingly.
Since from you alone,
Satiny embers
Duty breathes
Without anyone saying: at last.
No hope here,
No orietur.
Science and fortitude,
Torture is certain.
It has been found again.
What? - Eternity.
It is the sea fled away
With the sun.

[Translated by Gilles de Seze]

The World is Too Much With Us

The World is too much with us; late and soon,
Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers:
Little we see in Nature that is ours;
We have given our hearts away, a sordid boon!
This Sea that bares her bosom to the moon,
The winds that will be howling at all hours
And are up-gather'd now like sleeping flowers,
For this, for everything, we are out of tune;
It moves us not.-Great God! I'd rather be
A pagan suckled in a creed outworn,-
So might I, standing on this pleasant lea,
Have glimpses that would make me less forlorn;
Have sight of Proteus rising from the sea;
Or hear old Triton blow his wreathèd horn.

-- William Wordsworth


What lips my lips have kissed, and where and why
I have forgotten, and what arms have lain
Under my head til morning; but the rain
Is full of ghosts tonight, that tap and sigh
Upon the glass and listen for reply,
and in my heart there sits a quiet pain
For unremembered lads that not again
Will turn to me at midnight with a cry.
Thus in the winter stands a lonely tree,
nor knows what birds have vanished one by one,
Yet knows its boughs more silent than before:
I cannot say what loves have come and gone,
I only know that summer sang in me
A little while, that in me sings no more.

~~Edna St Vincent Millay

The Best Advice -- Living Long and Wild
Well, I like the first one, too, and the second is fascinating. Here's a poem that struck me. I don't know if it is the best... but I go back to it again and again. I remember being thirteen years old and in a classroom (cold, badly painted, small) and feeling an almost physical shock at this poem and totally awed by his genius. I was thrilled by the words then, and I still am; the title is perfection. The villanelle form of day and night and their symbolic rhymes is the best. Mostly I liked the way it offered an interesting perspective: a good way to live and die and even more, a child offering advice to a parent. Just good stuff. I like the images: green bay, meteors and wild men. I have continued to like the author and his works... Dylan Thomas. Yeah, I like this poem!

"Do Not Go Gentle into That Good Night"

Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Here's a recording of the poem by the author... http://www.poets.org/booth/AudioSource.cfm?45442B7C000C070109

"volcanoes erupt because they can not speak."

Excuse me if it's a bit wrong but this is from memory

Do not stand at my grave and weep
I am not there; i do not sleep
I am a thousand winds that blow
I am the diamond glint snow
I am the sun on ripened grain
I am the gentle autumn rain
When you awake in the morning's hush
I am the soft uplifting rush
Of quiet birds, in circled flight
I am the stars that shine at night
Do not stand at my grave and cry
I am not there; I did not die

I first read it aged 11 in my Year 6 classroom... it's been one of the few i can quote all my life

Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound's the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark and deep.
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.

These words both haunt and move me.