All Poems
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A Poem Dedicated To The Memory Of The Late Learned And Eminent Mr. William Law, Professor Of Philoso
© Robert Blair
In silence to suppress my griefs I've tried,
And kept within its banks the swelling tide!
But all in vain: unbidden numbers flow;
Spite of myself my sorrows vocal grow.
Rubaiyat 01
© Shams al-Din Hafiz
The only vision I have is your sight
The only thing I follow is your light.
Everyone finds his repose in sleep,
Sleep from my eyes has taken flight.
The Broken Field
© Sara Teasdale
My soul is a dark ploughed field
In the cold rain;
My soul is a broken field
Ploughed by pain.
Sonnet To--
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
FAIR Muse, beloved of all, thou art no high
Imperious goddess of the mount or main,
But a sweet maiden of the pastoral plain,
To whom the hum of bees, the west wind's sigh,
Elle est gaie et pensive; elle nous fait songer
© Victor Marie Hugo
Elle est gaie et pensive ; elle nous fait songer
À tout ce qui reluit malgré de sombres voiles,
Aux bois pleins de rayons, aux nuits pleines d'étoiles.
L'esprit en la voyant s'en va je ne sais où.
The Sailor Boy to His Lass
© William Schwenck Gilbert
I go away this blessed day,
To sail across the sea, MATILDA!
The Foolish Old Man
© Dora Sigerson Shorter
All silent he for a year and a day
All lone with his rage and sorrow,
Then he spoke his wrath, "Too long I stay,
I will seek their roof to-morrow."
My Soul Is Dark
© George Gordon Byron
My soul is dark--Oh! quickly string
The harp I yet can brook to hear;
The Old Man with the Broken Arm
© Bai Juyi
At Hsin-fëngan old manfour-score and eight;
The hair on his head and the hair of his eyebrowswhite as the new snow.
"Go back to the tainted lap, Leah"
© Osip Emilevich Mandelstam
Go back to the tainted lap, Leah,
Whence you came,
Because to the sun of Ilion
You preferred yellow twilight.
When I First Put This Uniform On
© William Schwenck Gilbert
When I first put this uniform on,
I said, as I looked in the glass,
The Nixes Song
© Madison Julius Cawein
Vague, vague 'neath darkling waves,
With emerald-curving caves
Evening Prayer
© Edith Nesbit
NOT to the terrible God, avenging, bright,
Whose altars struck their roots in flame and blood,
St. Valentines day
© Henry King
Now that each feather'd Chorister doth sing
The glad approches of the welcome Spring:
Now Phbus darts forth his more early beam,
And dips it later in the curled stream,
The Modern Japanee
© George Ade
We figured once on fans and screens
We figure now on the Philippines.
