All Poems
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Perfume Laden Air
© Sugawara Takesue no Musume
When from the neighbouring garden the perfume-laden air
Saturates my soul with memories,
Rises the thought of the beloved plum-tree
Blooming under the eaves of the house which is gone.
Contrasted Songs: Sailing Beyond The Seas
© Jean Ingelow
(Old Style.)
Methought the stars were blinking bright,
Norembega
© John Greenleaf Whittier
THE winding way the serpent takes
The mystic water took,
From where, to count its beaded lakes,
The forest sped its brook.
The Love Sonnets Of Proteus. Part II: To Juliet: XXXIX
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
FAREWELL TO JULIET
Juliet, farewell. I would not be forgiven
Even if I forgave. These words must be
The last between us two in Earth or Heaven,
Peruvian Tales: Alzira, Tale II
© Helen Maria Williams
PIZARRO lands with the Forces-His meeting with ATALIBA -Its un-
happy consequences-ZORAI dies-ATALIBA imprisoned, and strangled
-Despair of ALZIRA .
Kate O'Belashanny
© William Allingham
Seek up and down, both fair and brown,
We've purty lasses many, O;
Glorious France
© Edgar Lee Masters
You have become a forge of snow-white fire,
A crucible of molten steel, O France!
The Evening Darkens Over
© Robert Seymour Bridges
The evening darkens over
After a day so bright,
The windcapt waves discover
That wild will be the night.
There's sound of distant thunder.
The Farmer Talks
© Edgar Albert Guest
HERE 's a letter from John in th' city,
Ain't heard from him now fer a year;
Ecrit au bas d'un crucifix
© Victor Marie Hugo
Vous qui pleurez, venez à ce Dieu, car il pleure.
Vous qui souffrez, venez à lui, car il guérit.
Vous qui tremblez, venez à lui, car il sourit.
Vous qui passez, venez à lui, car il demeure.
To The Spring
© Frances Anne Kemble
Hail to thee, spirit of hope! whom men call Spring;
Youngest and fairest of the four, who guide
Sonnet. "Art thou already weary of the way?"
© Frances Anne Kemble
Art thou already weary of the way?
Thou who hast yet but half the way gone o'er;
Flower-De-Luce: The Bells Of Lynn. Heard At Nahant
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
O curfew of the setting sun! O Bells of Lynn!
O requiem of the dying day! O Bells of Lynn!
Preconception
© Benjamin Jonson
But tonight a poem came
in which a small child,
my daughter, appeared at the door
of a half-lit room
where late one night I wrote
at a heavy desk.
The Dance Of The Seven Deadly Sins
© William Dunbar
Helie harlots on hawtane wise,
Come in with mony sundry guise,
But yet leuch never Mahoun,
While priests come in with bare shaven necks;
Then all the fiends leuch, and made gecks,
Black-Belly and Bawsy Brown.
The French Army In Russia, 1812-13
© William Wordsworth
HUMANITY, delighting to behold
A fond reflection of her own decay,
Hath painted Winter like a traveller old,
Propped on a staff, and, through the sullen day,
