Some weeks finding a poem is easy. I’m in the mood for something related to a season or event or have a particular poet (or even poem!) in mind. This week wasn’t one of those. Instead, I skimmed – I know this isn’t the way you’re supposed to read poetry, but sometimes that’s just...

There is something so irresistibly sad, or melancholy, or nostalgic, about Sara Teasdale’s poem “Water Lilies” that I find absolutely haunting. Actually, none of those words – sad, melancholy, nostalgic – is quite right. And maybe that’s what I like about this poem: it evokes a...