All Poems
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The Mullein Meadow
© Jean Blewett
Down in the mullein meadow The lusty thistle springs,The butterflies go criss-cross, The lonesome catbird sings,
The Mother's Lecture
© Jean Blewett
There's nothing, did you say, Reuben? There's nothing, nothing at all,There's nothing to thank the Lord for This disappointing fall.
The Grave
© Jean Blewett
O the grave is a quiet place, my dear, So still and so quiet by night and by day,Reached by no sound either joyous or drear, But keeping its silence alway, alway.
All Love Asks
© Jean Blewett
All Love asks is a heart to stay in;A brave, true heart to be glad and gay in;A garden of tender thoughts to play in;A faith unswerving through cold or heatTill the heart where Love lodges forgets to beat
Oh, Dem Golden Slippers!
© Bland James A.
Oh, my golden slippers am laid away,Kase I don't 'spect to wear 'em till my weddin' day,And my long-tail'd coat, dat I loved so well,I will wear up in de chariot in de morn;And my long, white robe dat I bought last June,I'm gwine to get changed kase it fits too soon,And de ole grew hoss dat I used to drive,I will hitch him up to de chariot in de morn
In The Evening By The Moonlight
© Bland James A.
In de ebening by de moonlight when dis darkie's work was over,We would gather round de fire, 'till hoecake it was done
Carry Me Back to Old Virginny
© Bland James A.
Carry me back to old Virginny,There's where the cotton and the corn and tatoes grow,There's where the birds warble sweet in the spring-time,There's where the old darkey's heart am long'd to go,There's where I labored so hard for old massa,Day after day in the field of yellow corn,No place on earth do I love more sincerelyThan old Virginny, the state where I was born
Europe: A Prophecy
© William Blake
The nameless shadowy female rose from out the breast of Orc,Her snaky hair brandishing in the winds of Enitharmon;And thus her voice arose:
The Book of Urizen
© William Blake
CHAPTER IIn Eternity! Unknown, unprolific,Self-clos'd, all-repelling: what demonHath form'd this abominable void,This soul-shudd'ring vacuum? Some said"It is Urizen
America: A Prophecy
© William Blake
The shadowy Daughter of Urthona stood before red Orc,When fourteen suns had faintly journey'd o'er his dark abode:His food she brought in iron baskets, his drink in cups of iron:Crown'd with a helmet and dark hair the nameless female stood;A quiver with its burning stores, a bow like that of night,When pestilence is shot from heaven: no other arms she need!Invulnerable though naked, save where clouds roll round her loinsTheir awful folds in the dark air: silent she stood as night;For never from her iron tongue could voice or sound arise,But dumb till that dread day when Orc assay'd his fierce embrace
The Vowels
© Bithell Jethro
Ye vowels, A black, E white, I red, U green, O blue,I will reveal your latent births one of these days
Sensation
© Bithell Jethro
In summer evenings blue, pricked by the wheatOn rustic paths the thin grass I shall tread,And feel its freshness underneath my feet,And, dreaming, let the wind bathe my bare head.
Brazil, January 1, 1502
© Elizabeth Bishop
Januaries, nature greets our eyesexactly as she must have greeted theirs:every square inch filling in with foliage--big leaves, little leaves, and giant leaves,blue, blue-green, and olive,with occasional lighter veins and edges,or a satin underleaf turned over;monster fernsin silver-gray relief,and flowers, too, like giant water liliesup in the air--up, rather, in the leaves--purple, yellow, two yellows, pink,rust red and greenish white;solid but airy; fresh as if just finishedand taken off the frame
Stonehenge
© Binyon Heward Laurence
Gaunt on the cloudy plainStand the great Stones,Dwarfed in the vast reachOf a sky that owns
The Reformer
© Binyon Heward Laurence
August from a vault of hollow brassSteep upon the sullen city glares.Yellower burns the sick and parching grass,Shivering in the breath of furnace airs.
For the Fallen
© Binyon Heward Laurence
With proud thanksgiving, a mother for her children,England mourns for her dead across the sea.Flesh of her flesh they were, spirit of her spirit,Fallen in the cause of the free.
Angered Reason
© Binyon Heward Laurence
Angered Reason walked with meA street so squat, unshapen, bald,So blear-windowed and grimy-walled,So dismal-doored, it seemed to be
Herrick's Julia
© Bevington Helen
Whenas in perfume Julia went,Then, then, how sweet was the intentOf that inexorable scent.
