Call the roller of big cigars, The muscular one, and bid him whip In kitchen cups concupiscent curds. Let the wenches dawdle in such dress As they are used to wear, and let the boys Bring flowers in last month's newspapers. Let be be finale of seem. The only emperor is the emperor of ice-cream.
Take from the dresser of deal, Lacking the three glass knobs, that sheet On which she embroidered fantails once And spread it so as to cover her face. If her horny feet protruded, they come To show how cold she is, and dumb. Let the lamp affix its beam. The only emperor is the emperor of ice-cream.
Should the wide world roll away Leaving black terror Limitless night, Nor God, nor man, nor place to stand Would be to me essential If thou and thy white arms were there And the fall to doom a long way.
Available on Project Gutenberg
This excellent collection of lyric poetry is by one of the greats of the Harlem Rennaissance. The poems include a range of forms and sizes from single quatrain epitaphs to poems of several pages, with those in between (including a number of sonnets) being most common. Like Dickinson, Cullen had a fondness for common meter (a.k.a. hymn meter,) and it is prevalent throughout. The topics include serious matters, such as race and death, but there is no lack of whimsicality within these pages.
The book is divided into four sections: “Color,” “Epitaphs,” “For Love’s Sake,” and “Varia.” The first is the most serious of tone. (Interestingly, the epitaphs and other poems on death often take a lighthearted, even humorous, tone.)
I’d highly recommend this collection for poetry readers. It’s fun to read, and the poems are skillfully crafted.
It was many and many a year ago, In a kingdom by the sea, That a maiden there lived whom you may know By the name of Annabel Lee; And this maiden she lived with no other thought Than to love and be loved by me.
I was a child and she was a child, In this kingdom by the sea, But we loved with a love that was more than love -- I and my Annabel Lee -- With a love that the winged seraphs of Heaven Coveted her and me.
And this was the reason that, long ago, In this kingdom by the sea, A wind blew out of a cloud, chilling My beautiful Annabel Lee; So that her highborn kinsman came And bore her away from me, To shut her up in a sepulchre In this kingdom by the sea.
The angels, not half so happy in Heaven, Went envying her and me --- Yes! -- that was the reason (as all men know, In this kingdom by the sea) That the wind came out of the cloud by night, Chilling and killing my Annabel Lee.
But our love it was stronger by far than the love Of those who were older than we -- Of many far wiser than we -- And neither the angels in Heaven above Nor the demons down under the sea Can ever dissever my soul from the soul Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
For the moon never beams, without bringing me dreams Of the beautiful Annabel Lee; And the stars never rise, but I feel the bright eyes Of the beautiful Annabel Lee; And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side Of my darling -- my darling -- my life and my bride, In her sepulchre there by the sea -- In her tomb by the sounding sea.
Where is the grave of Sir Arthur O'Kellyn? Where may the grave of that good man be? -- By the side of a spring, on the breast of Helvellyn, Under the twigs of a young birch tree! The oak that in summer was sweet to hear, And rustled its leaves in the fall of the year, And whistled and roared in the winter alone, Is gone, -- and the birch in its stead has grown. -- The Knight's bones are dust, And his good sword rust; -- His soul is with the saints, I trust.
Tiger Riding for Beginners 