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Poems by Witter Bynner
At the Touch of You
Undressing You
Poems About Friendship
After the Movie
by Marie Howe
Blue Is Beautiful Amy but the Story Is So the '90s
by Farrah Field
Book Loaned to Tom Andrews
by Bobby C. Rogers
Dear Friends
by Edwin Arlington Robinson
For N & K
by Gina Myers
by Jean Valentine
by Jean Valentine
From the Lives of My Friends
by Michael Dickman
by Joanna Klink
Heaven for Helen
by Mark Doty
Heaven for Stanley
by Mark Doty
How I Am
by Jason Shinder
I Love the Hour Just Before
by Todd Boss
Mending Wall
by Robert Frost
On Gifts For Grace
by Bernadette Mayer
On the Road to the Sea
by Charlotte Mew
by Lucille Clifton
Skunk Hour
by Robert Lowell
Song of Myself, X
by Walt Whitman
Stanzas in Meditation
by Gertrude Stein
by Sharon Olds
The Armadillo
by Elizabeth Bishop
The Soul unto itself (683)
by Emily Dickinson
This Lime Tree Bower My Prison
by Samuel Taylor Coleridge
To a Friend who sent me some Roses
by John Keats
To Amy Lowell
by Eunice Tietjens
To My Oldest Friend, Whose Silence Is Like a Death
by Lloyd Schwartz
To Thomas Moore
by George Gordon Byron
by William Wordsworth
We Have Been Friends Together
by Caroline Elizabeth Sarah Norton
You & I Belong in This Kitchen
by Juan Felipe Herrera
Your Catfish Friend
by Richard Brautigan
Poems About Sports
A Boy Juggling a Soccer Ball
by Christopher Merrill
After Skate
by Carol Muske-Dukes
Autumn Begins in Martins Ferry, Ohio
by James Wright
Baseball and Writing
by Marianne Moore
Casey at the Bat
by Ernest Lawrence Thayer
Days of Me
by Stuart Dischell
Fishing on the Susquehanna in July
by Billy Collins
Night Baseball
by Michael Blumenthal
Séance at Tennis
by Dana Goodyear
Tackle Football
by Dan Chiasson
The Bee
by James Dickey
The First Olympic Ode [excerpt]
by Pindar
The Trouble Ball [excerpt]
by Martín Espada
To An Athlete Dying Young
by A. E. Housman
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by Witter Bynner

Outside hove Shasta, snowy height on height,	 
A glory; but a negligible sight,	 
For you had often seen a mountain-peak	 
But not my paper. So we came to speak...	 
A smoke, a smile,—a good way to commence
The comfortable exchange of difference!	 
You a young engineer, five feet eleven,	 
Forty-five chest, with football in your heaven,	 
Liking a road-bed newly built and clean,	 
Your fingers hot to cut away the green
Of brush and flowers that bring beside a track	 
The kind of beauty steel lines ought to lack,—	 
And I a poet, wistful of my betters,	 
Reading George Meredith's high-hearted letters,	 
Joining betweenwhile in the mingled speech
Of a drummer, circus-man, and parson, each	 
Absorbing to himself—as I to me	 
And you to you—a glad identity!	 
After a time, when others went away,	 
A curious kinship made us choose to stay,
Which I could tell you now; but at the time	 
You thought of baseball teams and I of rhyme,	 
Until we found that we were college men	 
And smoked more easily and smiled again;	 
And I from Cambridge cried, the poet still:
"I know your fine Greek theatre on the hill	 
At Berkeley!" With your happy Grecian head	 
Upraised, "I never saw the place," you said—	 
"Once I was free of class, I always went	 
Out to the field."
Young engineer, you meant	 
As fair a tribute to the better part	 
As ever I did. Beauty of the heart	 
Is evident in temples. But it breathes	 
Alive where athletes quicken curly wreaths,
Which are the lovelier because they die.	 
You are a poet quite as much as I,	 
Though differences appear in what we do,	 
And I an athlete quite as much as you.	 
Because you half-surmise my quarter-mile
And I your quatrain, we could greet and smile.	 
Who knows but we shall look again and find	 
The circus-man and drummer, not behind	 
But leading in our visible estate—	 
As discus-thrower and as laureate?

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