O Poetry! My fair lady!
You dress yourself in a million ways.
Epics, haikus, sonnets, and nonets,
You silence the nightingale with every phrase.
O Poetry! My dainty lady!
You dance with such elegant feet and form.
With your changing meter, tempo and beat,
You took me on a journey full of rhythm.
We sailed across the ancient Aegean Sea,
And led by Homer to the epic Trojan wall.
Eagle, armour, ships, fire and blood,
We saw the gallant heroes’ rise and fall.
When paused at Elizabethan Stratford-Upon-Avon.
Acquainted we with Shakespeare in the town.
Each time our bard did lift his magic quill,
We saw a billion pearls of love poured down.
Then, we took a walk in an Eastern wood,
With Matsuo Basho on a rainy afternoon.
He opened our eyes to nature with no rhyme,
By turning everything into flowers and the moon.
Soon, we came across the two diverging roads
And took the one that was less traveled by,
But Robert Frost did tell us with a sigh
That the road not taken was also worth a try.
On the edge of the wood, there was a poison tree,
Under which stood William Blake’s foe.
We snatched the apple from his hand,
Before he knew from wrath this tree did grow.
Suddenly, we were attracted by a thistle field,
And heard Robert Burns singing his nostalgic line,
Which invited us tak a cup’o kindness
For days of auld lang syne.
We drop by the Ducal Palace of Mantua,
Monteverdi amazed us with boundless power.
When Orfeo sang with his blessed lyre,
Callous Pluto relented before an hour.
Curiously, we peeked into a gothic chamber,
Where in the dark sat Edgar Allan Poe.
With the Raven echoing “Nevermore”,
He made us shiver with woe.
Escaping, we flew over the vales and hills,
Where Wordsworth wandered lonely as a cloud.
He cheered us up with the golden daffodils,
And filled our hearts with the bliss of solitude.
Following Emily Dickinson’s singing in the gale,
We conquered the chilliest land in a storm.
She defended us against the cold,
And hope in its feathers did keep us warm.
With warmth, we entered the Harlem Renaissance,
And condemned injustice without violent fights,
Along with the darker brother, Langston Hughes,
Who fueled our dreams of equal human rights.
Finally, we settled in the land of the free,
Where we celebrated late into the night.
We sang the “Song of Myself” with Whitman,
And planned a new adventure in the moonlight.
O Poetry! My brave lady!
How you untangle the wire I call life.
You’ll always guide me through the secret lands
Of good and evil, of love and strife.
O Poetry! My wise lady!
You make lifeless words spring alive!
From an ode to an elegy,
You shall forever thrive!