All Poems

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3210

November

© Bell Julian Heward

The seeds we sowed a year agoBring in their harvest now:A pleasing straw to those who knowThey must forsake the plough.

Nonsense

© Bell Julian Heward

Sing a song of sixpence,A pocketful of rye,The lover's in the gardenAnd battle's in the sky.The banker's in the cityGetting off his gold;Oh isn't it a pityThe rye can't be sold.

London II

© Bell Julian Heward

Emptiness unsatisfiedThe hollow wind shifts inside.So life is this? well, I shall tryA little longer: take my share;And then resume more native airAnd let this world of things go by.

London I

© Bell Julian Heward

The melancholy verse Sings to the waterfall; Wring writing harsh and worse, The jarring beauties fall.

Kiss before we sleepA thousand times again,And love close-guarded keep:Though this night we wakeWith the grey sun's light,Returning dawns will breakWhile we in our long night,Past pleasure or pain,Nor turn nor kiss again

Song from Abdelazar

© Aphra Behn

Love in fantastic triumph sat, Whilst bleeding hearts around him flow'd,For whom fresh pains he did create, And strange tyrannic power he shew'd;From thy bright eyes he took his fire, Which round about in sport he hurl'd;But 'twas from mine he took desire Enough to undo the amorous world

Bede's Death Song

© Bede The Venerable

Fore there neidfaerae naenig uuiurthitthoncsnotturra than him tharf sieto ymbhycggannae aer his hiniongaehuaet his gastae godaes aeththa yflaesaefter deothdaege doemid uueorthae.

Lay a garland on my hearse

© John Fletcher

Lay a garland on my hearse, Of the dismal yew,Maidens, willow branches bear, Say I died true.My love was false, but I was firm From my hour of birth;Upon my buried body lie Lightly, gentle earth.

The Minstrel; or, The Progress of Genius

© James Beattie

THE FIRST BOOK (excerpts) The steep where Fame's proud temple shines afar! Ah! who can tell how many a soul sublime Hath felt the influence of malignant star, And wag'd with Fortune an eternal war! Check'd by the scoff of Pride, by Envy's frown, And Poverty's unconquerable bar, In life's low vale remote hath pin'd aloneThen dropt into the grave, unpitied and unknown!

And yet, the languor of inglorious days Not equally oppressive is to all

The View at Gunderson's

© Beach Joseph Warren

Sitting in his rocker waiting for your tea,Gazing from his window, this is what you see:

Recueillement

© Charles Baudelaire

Sois sage, ô ma Douleur, et tiens-toi plus tranquille.Tu réclamais le Soir; il descend; le voici:Une atmosphère obscure enveloppe la ville,Aux uns portant la paix, aux autres le souci.

Le Chat

© Charles Baudelaire

Dans ma cervelle se promène,Ainsi qu'en son appartement,Un beau chat, fort, doux et charmant.Quand il miaule, on l'entend à peine,

La Cloche Félée

© Charles Baudelaire

Il est amer et doux, pendant les nuits d'hiver,D'écouter, près du feu qui palpite et qui fume,Les souvenirs lointains lentement s'éleverAu bruit des carillons qui chantent dans la brume.

L'Albatros

Souvent, pour s'amuser, les hommes d'équipagePrennent des albatros, vastes oiseaux des mers,Qui suivent, indolents compagnons de voyage,Le navire glissant sur les gouffres amers,

Correspondances

La Nature est un temple où de vivants piliersLaissent parfois sortir de confuses paroles;L'homme y passe à travers des forêts de symbolesQui l'observent avec des regards familiers.