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Riddle 47

Moððe word fræt. Me þæt þuhte

wrætlicu wyrd, þa ic þæt wundor gefrægn,

þæt se wyrm forswealg wera gied sumes,

þeof in þystro, þrymfæstne cwide

ond þæs strangan staþol. Stælgiest ne wæs

wihte þy gleawra, þe he þam wordum swealg.

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Michael Palmer

On the moored rowboat's gunwale perched, …

Kenneth Slade Alling

I love him so, this creature I do pray …

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Sleep has laid its finger-tips …

Joseph Freeman

City ways bring you to the gate. …

Robert Chatain

In the first rain after a dry summer, …

David Wagoner

I'm sitting here on the old patio …

César Vallejo

I think you must contrive to turn this stone …

Linda Gregerson

The glossary

The language about poetry

From aubade to zuihitsu, 207 definitions of the forms, figures, and schools that shape the line.

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