All Poems
/ page 208 of 3210 /The Woodland Hallo
© Robert Bloomfield
In our cottage, that peeps from the skirts of the wood,
I am mistress, no mother have I;
Sonnet 108: When Sorrow
© Sir Philip Sidney
When sorrow (using mine own fire's might)
Melts down his lead into my boiling breast;
Through that dark furnace to my heart oppress'd
There shines a joy from thee, my only light;
Unanointed
© Madison Julius Cawein
Upon the Siren-haunted seas, between Fate's mythic shores,
Within a world of moon and mist, where dusk and daylight wed,
I see a phantom galley and its hull is banked with oars,
With ghostly oars that move to song, a song of dreams long dead:
Lucys Birthday
© William Makepeace Thackeray
Seventeen rosebuds in a ring,
Thick with sister flowers beset,
Lone Wild Goose
© Du Fu
Alone, the wild goose refuses food and drink,
his calls searching for the flock.
The Sorry Hostess
© Edgar Albert Guest
She said she was sorry the weather was bad
The night that she asked us to dine;
Twenty Days
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
Twenty days are barely gone,
I was merry all the day.
Folly was my butt of scorn.
Now the fool myself I play.
Sonnet II: Bridal Birth
© Dante Gabriel Rossetti
As when desire, long darkling, dawns, and first
The mother looks upon the newborn child,
King Cahill's Farewell To The Rye Field
© Padraic Colum
"Tira autumn sun your shadow's flung, my Cahill,
Upon the field where now your reapmg's done,
Lo, there! And lo! Your reaper's wreath of rushes
Is on your forehead like a kingly crown.
Seventh Ode Of The Fourth Book Of Horace
© James Clerk Maxwell
All the snows have fled, and grass springs up on the meadows,
And there are leaves on the trees;
Hendecasyllabics
© Alfred Tennyson
O you chorus of indolent reviewers,
Irresponsible, indolent reviewers,
Vies Manquees
© Edith Nesbit
A YEAR ago we walked the wood--
A year ago to-day;
A blackbird fluttered round her brood
Deep in the white-flowered may.
A Night At Dago Tom's
© John Masefield
Oh yesterday, I t'ink it was, while cruisin' down the street,
I met with Bill. - "Hullo," he says, "let's give the girls a treat."
We'd red bandanas round our necks 'n' our shrouds new rattled down,
So we filled a couple of Santy Cruz and cleared for Sailor Town.
To The Poet Cowper, On His Recovery From An Indisposition
© Charles Lamb
WRITTEN SOME TIME BACK.
Cowper, I thank my God that thou art healed.
The Boss's Boots
© Henry Lawson
The shearing super sprained his foot, as bosses sometimes do
And wore, until the shed cut out, one side-spring and one shoe;
And though he changed his pants at timessome worn-out and some neat
No tiger there could possibly mistake the Bosss feet.
Guitare
© Victor Marie Hugo
Gastibelza, l'homme à la carabine,
Chantait ainsi:
" Quelqu'un a-t-il connu dona Sabine ?
Quelqu'un d'ici ?
The Bee-Boy's Song
© Rudyard Kipling
Bees! Bees! Hark to your bees!
"Hide from your neighbours as much as you please,
But all that has happened, to us you must tell,
Or else we will give you no honey to sell!"
Fate
© Helge Rode
I was riding one day, 'twas a bright sunny day,
not a cloud to be seen in the sky,
When a small yellow bird, a-singing its song,
came flying to perch on my head.
With a too-ra-li-lay, falarali-ri-lay,
it came flying to perch on my head.