Life, to be lived!

Whereas art imitates life for its inspiration, life imitates art for the beauty in its depicting it.


back to




Poetry is life before being art ~ Vissarion Belinsky



Other Poems

The Road Not Taken

by Robert Frost

Putting in the Seed, Robert Frost

A Memory of Youth, William Butler Yeats

A Portrait, Dorothy Parker

The Kiss, Dante Gabriel Rosetti

Life in a Love, Robert Browning

A Letter to My Aunt, Dylan Thomas

An Eastern Ballad, Allen Ginsberg

I could not prove the Years had feet --, Emily Dickinson

Still Here, Langston Hughes

Waiting, Robert Frost

The Fisherman, William Butler Yeats

No Second Troy, William Butler Yeats

Phenomenal Woman, Maya Angelou

If you forget me, Pablo Neruda

To my Wife, Oscar Wilde

Those Winter Days, Robert Hayden

I wandered Lonely as a cloud, William Wordsmith

The Silence of Love, Oscar Wilde

Fire and Ice, Robert Frost

Alone, Edgar Allan Poe

I am not yours, Sara Teasdale

The Dole of the King's Daughter, Oscar Wilde

Ars Poetica, Archibald MacLeish

"Why do I love" You, Sir?, Emily Dickinson

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;
Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,
And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I-
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference