DPF / Eliot

For National Poetry Month, which I’m supposing is our month because of Eliot, from The Waste Land. 

from The Waste Land / by T.S. Eliot

April is the cruellest month, breeding
Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing
Memory and desire, stirring
Dull roots with spring rain.


DPF / Keats

For the first day of autumn, a day on which the high temperature fell twenty-four degrees from Tuesday, in honor of the day, from poetryfoundation.org.

from To Autumn / by John Keats

To bend with apples the moss’d cottage-trees,
And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core;
To swell the gourd, and plump the hazel shells
With a sweet kernel; to set budding more,
And still more, later flowers for the bees,
Until they think warm days will never cease