Elizabeth Bishop

(8 February 1911 – 6 October 1979 / Worcester, Massachusetts)

Sonnet


I am in need of music that would flow
Over my fretful, feeling finger-tips,
Over my bitter-tainted, trembling lips,
With melody, deep, clear, and liquid-slow.
Oh, for the healing swaying, old and low,
Of some song sung to rest the tired dead,
A song to fall like water on my head,
And over quivering limbs, dream flushed to glow!

There is a magic made by melody:
A spell of rest, and quiet breath, and cool
Heart, that sinks through fading colors deep
To the subaqueous stillness of the sea,
And floats forever in a moon-green pool,
Held in the arms of rhythm and of sleep.

Submitted: Friday, January 03, 2003

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

Read poems about / on: magic, song, music, moon, green, water, dream, sleep, sea, heart, sonnet

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 (Sonnet by Elizabeth Bishop )

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

New Poems

  1. Whispers, Mihaela Pirjol
  2. For Your Family Pride, Are You Going To .., Bijay Kant Dubey
  3. The Tears of A Woman, Who Can Underatnd .., Bijay Kant Dubey
  4. Love Is A Groovy Thing, Electric Lady
  5. I Think, tallulah montegue
  6. Fill Free, Teye Wayoe Ebenezer
  7. The Unabridged Treaty, Bazi alis Subrata Ray
  8. Fron(t) s, Leylek D. Sovura
  9. Ode to the Old and Tired, tallulah montegue
  10. What Sort of Judges Are They Who Conside.., Bijay Kant Dubey

Poem of the Day

poet Edmund Spenser

Of this worlds theatre in which we stay,
My love like the spectator ydly sits
Beholding me that all the pageants play,
Disguysing diversly my troubled wits.
...... Read complete »

   
[Hata Bildir]