All Poems
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Epitaph On Robert Canynge
© Thomas Chatterton
THYS mornynge starre of Radcleves rysynge raie,
A true manne good of mynde and Canynge hyghte,
The Wheat And Tares
© John Newton
Though in the outward church below
The wheat and tares together grow;
Jesus ere long will weed the crop,
And pluck the tares, in anger, up.
"That evening the forest of organ pipes did not play"
© Osip Emilevich Mandelstam
That evening the forest of organ pipes did not play.
A native cradle sang Schubert for us,
The mill was grinding, the music's blue-eyed drunkenness
Laughed in the songs of the hurricane.
Pa Did It!
© Edgar Albert Guest
The train of cars that Santa brought is out of kilter now;
While pa was showing how they went he broke the spring somehow.
They used to run around a track-at least they did when he
Would let me take them in my hands an' wind 'em with a key.
I could 'a' had some fun with 'em, if only they would go,
But, gee! I never had a chance, for pa enjoyed em so.
Before Sleep
© Archibald Lampman
Now the creeping nets of sleep
Stretch about and gather nigh,
And the midnight dim and deep
Like a spirit passes by,
Trailing from her crystal dress
Dreams and silent frostiness.
A Melody By Scarlatti
© Aldous Huxley
HOW clear under the trees,
How softly the music flows,
Rippling from one still pool to another
Into the lake of silence.
La Chanson Du Malaime
© Guillaume Apollinaire
Un soir de demi-brume à Londres
Un voyou qui ressemblait à
O Jeune Adolescent!
© André Marie de Chénier
O jeune adolescent! tu rougis devant moi.
Vois mes traits sans couleurs; ils pâlissent pour toi:
A Spring Song And A Later
© James Whitcomb Riley
She sang a song of May for me,
Wherein once more I heard
Valentine's Day
© Charles Kingsley
Oh! I wish I were a tiny browny bird from out the south,
Settled among the alder-holts, and twittering by the stream;
I would put my tiny tail down, and put up my tiny mouth,
And sing my tiny life away in one melodious dream.
Enough
© Muriel Stuart
Did he forget? . . . I do not remember,
All I had of him once I still have to-day;
He was lovely to me as the word, "amber,"
As the taste of honey and the smell of hay.
Christmas
© Paul Laurence Dunbar
STEP wid de banjo an' glide wid de fiddle,
Dis ain' no time fu' to pottah an' piddle;
Written In Australia
© Arthur Henry Adams
THE WIDE sun stares without a cloud:
Whipped by his glances truculent
Mnais
© André Marie de Chénier
'Bergers, vous dont ici la chèvre vagabonde,
La brebis se traînant sous sa laine féconde,
Ballade Of Truisms
© William Ernest Henley
Him and his to know decay,
Where undimmed the lights that wane
Would remain,
If it could be always May.
Emblems
© Allen Tate
I
Maryland, Virginia, Caroline
Pent images in sleep
Clay valleys rocky hills old fields of pine
Unspeakable and deep
News of the Sun
© Rex Ingamells
The noon is on the cattle-track;
the air is void of sound,
except where crows, poised burning-black,
cry to the dusty ground.
Cruel Frederick
© Heinrich Hoffmann
So Frederick had to go to bed:
His leg was very sore and red!
The Doctor came, and shook his head,
And made a very great to-do,
And gave him nasty physic too.
The Battle Of Sherramuir
© Robert Burns
"O cam ye here the fight to shun,
Or herd the sheep wi' me, man?
