All Poems
/ page 203 of 3210 /Halme Der Nacht
© Paul Celan
She combs her hair, like the dead are combed,
She carries the blue fragments under her robe.
Satyr XII. The Test Of Poetry
© Thomas Parnell
Much have I writt, says Bavius, Mankind knows
By my quick printing how my fancy flows:
To My Truely Valiant, Learned Friend; Who In His Brooke Res
© Richard Lovelace
I.
Hearke, reader! wilt be learn'd ith' warres?
A gen'rall in a gowne?
Strike a league with arts and scarres,
And snatch from each a crowne?
Bega
© Marjorie Lowry Christie Pickthall
FROM the clouded belfry calling,
Hear my soft ascending swells;
Elegy, Imitated From One Of Akenside's Blank-Verse Inscriptions
© Samuel Taylor Coleridge
Near the lone pile with ivy overspread,
Fast by the rivulet's sleep-persuading sound,
Where 'sleeps the moonlight' on yon verdant bed--
O humbly press that consecrated ground!
Brennbaum
© Ezra Pound
The sky-like limpid eyes,
The circular infant's face,
The stiffness from spats to collar
Never relaxing into grace;
LA PENALE (The Fine)
© Giuseppe Gioacchino Belli
Li preti, già sse sa, fanno la caccia
A 'gni sorte de spece de quadrini.
Mo er mi' curato ha messo du' carlini
De murta a chi vò dì 'na parolaccia.
The Station Master
© Arun Kolatkar
the booking clerk believes in the doctrine
of the next train
when conversations turns to time
he talks his tongue
hands it to you across the counter
and directs you to the superior
Lovers
© Arthur Henry Adams
I thought, because we had been friends so long,
That I knew all your dear lips dared intend
The Lady And The Dame
© Wilcox Ella Wheeler
So thou hast the art, good dame, thou swearest,
To keep Time's perishing touch at bay
Masaccio
© James Russell Lowell
He came to Florence long ago,
And painted here these walls, that shone
For Raphael and for Angelo,
With secrets deeper than his own,
Then shrank into the dark again,
And died, we know not how or when.
With Hale Affection And Abiding Faith These Rhymes And Pictures Are Inscribed To The Children Everyw
© James Whitcomb Riley
_He owns the bird-songs of the hills--
The laughter of the April rills;
Scene Between May and June
© James Thomson
In lowly dale, fast by a river's side,
With woody hill o'er hill encompass'd round,
A most enchanting wizard did abide,
Than whom a fiend more fell is nowhere found.
Changed. (Birds Of Passage. Flight The Third)
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
From the outskirts of the town
Where of old the mile-stone stood,
Now a stranger, looking down
I behold the shadowy crown
Of the dark and haunted wood.
Who is at my door?
© Mewlana Jalaluddin Rumi
He said, "Who is at my door?"
I said, "Your humble servant."
He said, "What business do you have?"
I said, "To greet you, 0 Lord."
The Piper
© Francis William Bourdillon
The dews were on the hedges,
The mist was on the mead,
When down among the sedges
I wrought my pipe of reed.
My Army, O, My Army!
© Henry Lawson
My Queens dark eyes were flashing (oh, she was younger then!);
My Queens Red Cap was redder than the reddest blood of men!
My Queen marched like an Amazon, with anger manifest
Her dark hair darkly matted from a knifegash in her breast
(For blood will flow where milk will nother sisters knew the rest).
Epistle (Upon his arrival at his estate in Geneva)
© Voltaire
Now hostile Crowds Geneva's Tow'rs assail,
They march in secret, and by Night they scale;
The Goddess comes--they vanish from the Wall,
Their Launces shiver, and their Heros fall,
For Fraud can ne'er elude, nor Force withstand
The Stroke of Liberty's victorious Hand.