Edwin Arlington Robinson

(22 December 1869 – 6 April 1935 / Maine / United States)

For Ariva


You 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 meaning 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, without 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 share
Your gold of unrevealed awakenings.

Submitted: Friday, January 03, 2003

Do you like this poem?
0 person liked.
0 person did not like.

Related Poems


Read poems about / on: world, time

Read this poem in other languages

This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.

I would like to translate this poem »

word flags

What do you think this poem is about?

Comments about this poem (For Ariva by Edwin Arlington Robinson )

Enter the verification code :

There is no comment submitted by members..

Top Poems

  1. Phenomenal Woman
    Maya Angelou
  2. The Road Not Taken
    Robert Frost
  3. If You Forget Me
    Pablo Neruda
  4. Still I Rise
    Maya Angelou
  5. Dreams
    Langston Hughes
  6. Annabel Lee
    Edgar Allan Poe
  7. If
    Rudyard Kipling
  8. I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
    Maya Angelou
  9. Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
    Robert Frost
  10. Invictus
    William Ernest Henley

PoemHunter.com Updates

New Poems

  1. A Soldiers Lament, Phil Soar
  2. The Sloth, Phil Soar
  3. The Double Play, Robert Wallace
  4. Kippers, Phil Soar
  5. what does hope tell you?, RIC S. BASTASA
  6. OUT, Phil Soar
  7. then we have changed from quizzical to a.., RIC S. BASTASA
  8. A Fishy Tale, Phil Soar
  9. those who are dying, RIC S. BASTASA
  10. For Lou and the rest of us, RIC S. BASTASA

Poem of the Day

poet Wilfred Owen

All sounds have been as music to my listening:
Pacific lamentations of slow bells,
The crunch of boots on blue snow rosy-glistening,
Shuffle of autumn leaves; and all farewells:

...... Read complete »

   
[Hata Bildir]