Skip to content

— John Milton

Say, Heavenly Muse, shall not thy sacred vein 15

Afford a present to the Infant God?

Hast thou no verse, no hymn, or solemn strain,

To welcome him to this his new abode,

…

Read full poem →

verb

To cause to move faster; to quicken the motion of; to add to the speed of.

Know more →

ON HER FIFTH BIRTHDAY

14 lines
Edwin Arlington Robinson·1869–1935
✦
ou Eyes, you large and all-inquiring Eyes,That look so dubiously into me,And are not satisfied with what you see,Tell me the worst and let us have no lies:Tell me the secret of your scrutinies,And of myself. Am I a Mystery?Am I a Boojum--or just Company?What do you say? What do you think, You Eyes?You say not; but you think, beyond a doubt;And you have the whole world to think about,With very little time for little things.So let it be; and let it all be fair--For you, and for the rest who cannot shareYour gold of unrevealed awakenings.
✦