"Mist, Earthquake, Grace," by Hans Ostrom

"To Helen," by Edgar Allan Poe

"Friendco," by Hans Ostrom

One From Maya Angelou, R.I.P.

"A Girl," by Michael Field

"How Many Times Do I Love Thee?" by Thomas Lovell Beddoes

"God Scatters Beauty," by Walter Savage Landor

"Fragmentary Blue," by Robert Frost

"Why?" by Walter de la Mare

"Irony," by Amy Lowell

"Weak Days," by Hans Ostrom

Sunday was a damned done-day,
if you ask me, and you didn't.
Monday was a numb-day.
Wednesday? What a clot
of consonants. That mid-
dumb-day did not
find me inconsolable.
But still. Thursday,
a blur's day. Tues,
the Blues, an out-of-
order cruise. Fly-Day
night, I saw old pals
getting buzzed and sat
there in a corner like
a spider that's lost
its appetite. Saturday
always seems to want
to perform like
an Ur-Day. Academics
used to like to add
Ur to words. They're
always doing shit like that.
Also,there's always a missing
day in every week. It's that
one on which we do
exactly what we're
supposed to do.

"Venus Transiens," by Amy Lowell

"Houses," by F.S. Flint

"God Moves in a Mysterious Way," by William Cowper

"A Golden Day," by Paul Laurence Dunbar

"Amalfi," by Richard Aldington

"The Painter," by Gwendolyn Bennett

from "Quatrains"

"Lucretia Borgia's Hair," by Walter Savage Landor

"Red May," by A. Mary F. Robinson

from an anthology edited by Sara Teasdale, published in 1917.

"Preparedness," by Edwin Markham

"The Lotos Flower," by Heinrich Heine

“On Dürer’s Melancolia," by William Watson

"A Well, and the Cherry Trees, Swaying," by Alexey Tolstoy

Alexey Tolstoy's father was a distant relative of Leo Tolstoy.

"Rain Music," by Joseph S. Cotter, Jr.

"In the Desert," by Stephen Crane

"How to Be a Cat," by Hans Ostrom