AIBU to start a poetry thread?

[Capricopia]

I love poetry, and I thought it might be nice to have a thread where people share their favourite poems.

I’ll start with This Is the Time to Be Slow, by John O’Donohue. I’ve returned to this poem a lot since the start of the pandemic, and all through my life when depression and anxiety have laid me low. It has always been a huge comfort to me.

This is the time to be slow
Lie low to the wall
Until the bitter weather passes

Try, as best you can, not to let
The wire brush of doubt
Scrape from your heart
All sense of yourself
And your hesitant light.

If you remain generous,
Time will come good;
And you will find your feet
Again on fresh pastures of promise,
Where the air will be kind
And blushed with beginning.

Lovely idea for a thread

Here's one of mine - The Sun Rising by John Donne - a very over the top way of telling the Sun to bugger off because he'd rather stay in bed with his girlfriend. How I feel most mornings!

Busy old fool, unruly sun,
Why dost thou thus,
Through windows, and through curtains call on us?
Must to thy motions lovers' seasons run?
Saucy pedantic wretch, go chide
Late school boys and sour prentices,
Go tell court huntsmen that the king will ride,
Call country ants to harvest offices,
Love, all alike, no season knows nor clime,
Nor hours, days, months, which are the rags of time.

           Thy beams, so reverend and strong
           Why shouldst thou think?

I could eclipse and cloud them with a wink,
But that I would not lose her sight so long;
If her eyes have not blinded thine,
Look, and tomorrow late, tell me,
Whether both th' Indias of spice and mine
Be where thou leftst them, or lie here with me.
Ask for those kings whom thou saw'st yesterday,
And thou shalt hear, All here in one bed lay.

           She's all states, and all princes, I,
           Nothing else is.

Princes do but play us; compared to this,
All honor's mimic, all wealth alchemy.
Thou, sun, art half as happy as we,
In that the world's contracted thus.
Thine age asks ease, and since thy duties be
To warm the world, that's done in warming us.
Shine here to us, and thou art everywhere;
This bed thy center is, these walls, thy sphere.

There once was a man named Boris.
Whose ego was simply enormous.
He was known as a twat and a cad,
And it makes me really sad,
That we put him in charge of this country.