Emily Bronte's
The Prisoner
Stuck with me for year's after reading it in college. In my naivety, I was surprised to find the prisoner a woman. I thought of women of that era romantically, and incapable of warranting such treatment. We don't know why she's imprisoned, and it's a fact we can forgo as her faith, will, and spirit take over the poem. Beautiful and tragic. My favorite line:
"When Joy grew mad with awe, at counting future tears."
Runner-ups include just about anything by A.E. Housman, particularly:
With Rue My Heart Is Laden
WITH rue my heart is laden
For golden friends I had,
For many a rose-lipt maiden
And many a lightfoot lad.
By brooks too broad for leaping
The lightfoot boys are laid;
The rose-lipt girls are sleeping
In fields where roses fade.
And Sara Teasdale, particularly:
Barter
Life has loveliness to sell,
All beautiful and splendid things,
Blue waves whitened on a cliff,
Soaring fire that sways and sings,
And children's faces looking up
Holding wonder like a cup.
Life has loveliness to sell,
Music like a curve of gold,
Scent of pine trees in the rain,
Eyes that love you, arms that hold,
And for your spirit's still delight,
Holy thoughts that star the night.
Spend all you have for loveliness,
Buy it and never count the cost;
For one white singing hour of peace
Count many a year of strife well lost,
And for a breath of ecstasy
Give all you have been, or could be.