All Poems
/ page 190 of 3210 /Lone Mountain
© Francis Bret Harte
This is that hill of awe
That Persian Sindbad saw,--
The mount magnetic;
And on its seaward face,
Scattered along its base,
The wrecks prophetic.
The Bumboat Woman's Story
© William Schwenck Gilbert
I'm old, my dears, and shrivelled with age, and work, and grief,
My eyes are gone, and my teeth have been drawn by Time, the Thief!
For terrible sights I've seen, and dangers great I've run -
I'm nearly seventy now, and my work is almost done!
The Day Of The Daughter Of Hades
© George Meredith
He tells it, who knew the law
Upon mortals: he stood alive
Declaring that this he saw:
He could see, and survive.
A Jet Ring Sent
© John Donne
Thou art not so black as my heart,
Nor half so brittle as her heart, thou art ;
What would'st thou say ? shall both our properties by thee be spoke,
Nothing more endless, nothing sooner broke?
In 1969
© Larry Levis
Some called it the Summer of Love, & although the clustered,
Motionless leaves that overhung the streets looked the same
As ever, the same as they did every summer, in 1967,
Anybody with three dollars could have a vision.
Cradles
© Rene Francois Armand Prudhomme
Along the quay, the great ships,
that ride the swell in silence,
take no notice of the cradles.
that the hands of the women rock.
Marketplace Report
© Julie Hill Alger
January 23, 1991
The new war is a week old.
Bombs fall on Baghdad,
missiles on Tel Aviv.
Red Ridinghood
© Guy Wetmore Carryl
The Moral: There's nothing much glummer
Than children whose talents appal.
One much prefers those that are dumber,
And as for the paragons small
If a swallow cannot make a summer.
It can bring on a summary fall!
A Perfect Strain
© Isabella Valancy Crawford
O BID the minstrel tune his harp,
And bid the minstrel sing;
Peek-A-Boo
© Wilcox Ella Wheeler
When it hides its pink little face in its hands,
And crows, and shows that it understands
The Apple-Tree
© Ann Taylor
OLD John had an apple-tree, healthy and green,
Which bore the best codlins that ever were seen,
So juicy, so mellow, and red;
And when they were ripe, he disposed of his store,
To children or any who pass'd by his door,
To buy him a morsel of bread.
Indian Meditation
© Arthur Symons
Where shall this self at last find happiness?
O Soul, only in nothingness.
St. George
© Emile Verhaeren
Opening the mists on a sudden through,
An Avenue!
Then, all one ferment of varied gold,
With foam of plumes where the chamfrom bends
Round his horse's head, that no bit doth hold,
St. George descends!
A Christmas Memory
© James Whitcomb Riley
Pa he bringed me here to stay
'Til my Ma she's well.--An' nen
He's go' hitch up, Chris'mus-day,
An' come take me back again
Wher' my Ma's at! Won't I be
Tickled when he comes fer me!
Trust by Thomas R. Smith: American Life in Poetry #141 Ted Kooser, U.S. Poet Laureate 2004-2006
© Ted Kooser
Life becomes more complicated every day, and each of us can control only so much of what happens. As for the rest? Poet Thomas R. Smith of Wisconsin offers some practical advice.
Trust
It's like so many other things in life
to which you must say no or yes.
So you take your car to the new mechanic.
Sometimes the best thing to do is trust.
The Carpenter
© George MacDonald
O Lord, at Joseph's humble bench
Thy hands did handle saw and plane;
Thy hammer nails did drive and clench,
Avoiding knot and humouring grain.
PARADOX. That it is best for a Young Maid to marry an Old Man
© Henry King
Fair one, why cannot you an old man love?
He may as useful, and more constant prove.
Experience shews you that maturer years
Are a security against those fears