All Poems
/ page 192 of 3210 /Morts De Quatre-Vingt-Douze (Dead Of '92)
© Arthur Rimbaud
Morts de Quatre-vingt-douze et de Quatre-vingt-treize,
Qui, pâles du baiser fort de la liberté,
Calmes, sous vos sabots, brisiez le joug qui pèse
Sur l'âme et sur le front de toute humanité ;
Song Of The Bell. (From The German)
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Bell! thou soundest merrily,
When the bridal party
To the church doth hie!
Bell! thou soundest solemnly.
When, on Sabbath morning,
Fields deserted lie!
Breitmann In Holland. Leyden.
© Charles Godfrey Leland
TIS shveet to valk in Holland towns
Apout de twilicht tide,
Vhen all ish shdill on proad canals,
Safe vhere a poat may clide.
La Doncella Verde
© Ramon Lopez Velarde
¡Oh doncella, que guardas los suspiros más graves
del hombre, como guarda un llavero sus llaves:
un relámpago anuncia que el instante se acerca
en que tiñas de ti las aguas de mi alberca,
y a tu paso, fosfórica e inviolable mujer,
mi corazón se abre, pronto a reverdecer.!
Gum Is The Sky
© Fyodor Ivanovich Tyutchev
Glum is the sky, by night imprisoned,
As over it the dark clouds creep,
The Child Of The Islands - Opening
© Caroline Norton
I.
OF all the joys that brighten suffering earth,
What joy is welcomed like a new-born child?
What life so wretched, but that, at its birth,
The Sun-Dial At Morven
© Henry Van Dyke
FOR BAYARD AND HELEN STOCKTON
Two hundred years of blessing I record
For Morven's house, protected by the Lord:
And still I stand among old-fashioned flowers
To mark for Morven many sunlit hours.
Antiphon
© George MacDonald
Daylight fades away.
Is the Lord at hand
In the shadows gray
Stealing on the land?
The Importunate Widow
© John Newton
Our Lord, who knows full well
The heart of every saint;
Invites us, by a parable,
To pray and never faint.
The Convocation: A Poem
© Richard Savage
The Pagan prey on slaughter'd Wretches Fates,
The Romish fatten on the best Estates,
The British stain what Heav'n has right confest,
And Sectaries the Scriptures falsly wrest.
August
© Boris Pasternak
This was its promise, held to faithfully:
The early morning sun came in this way
Until the angle of its saffron beam
Between the curtains and the sofa lay,
Father, I Know That All My Life
© Anna Laetitia Waring
I ask Thee for a thoughtful love,
Through constant watching wise,
To meet the glad with joyful smiles,
And to wipe the weeping eyes;
And a heart at leisure from itself,
To soothe and sympathise.
Ballade Of Old Plays
© Andrew Lang
Ghosts, at your Poet's word ye dare
To break Death's dungeons through,
And frisk, as in that golden air,
When these Old Plays were new!
St. Philip And St. James
© John Keble
Dear is the morning gale of spring,
And dear th' autumnal eve;
But few delights can summer bring
A Poet's crown to weave.
Municipal
© Rudyard Kipling
"Why is my District death-rate low?"
Said Binks of Hezabad.
"Well, drains, and sewage-outfalls are
"My own peculiar fad.
"I learnt a lesson once, It ran
"Thus," quoth that most veracious man: -
Upon The Same Event
© William Wordsworth
WHEN, far and wide, swift as the beams of morn
The tidings past of servitude repealed,
And of that joy which shook the Isthmian Field,
The rough Aetolians smiled with bitter scorn.
My Lady Of Whims
© Katharine Lee Bates
(A medieval Spanish legend slanderously setting forth the utter unreason of woman.)
ROMAQUIA sat and wept her