All Poems
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The Call
© Jones Very
Why art thou not awake, my son?
The morning breaks I formed for thee;
And I thus early by thee stand,
Thy new-awakening life to see.
Otherside
© Henry Lawson
SOMEWHERE in the mystic future, on the road to Paradise,
Theres a very pleasant country that Ive dreamed of once or twice,
It has inland towns, and cities by the oceans rocky shelves,
But the people of the country differ somewhat from ourselves;
It is many leagues beyond us, and they call it Otherside.
And there is among its people more Humanity than Pride.
Lucy
© William Wordsworth
She dwelt among the untrodden ways
Beside the springs of Dove,
Maid whom there were none to praise
And very few to love:
The Dreamer
© Paul Laurence Dunbar
Temples he built and palaces of air,
And, with the artist's parent-pride aglow,
His fancy saw his vague ideals grow
Into creations marvellously fair;
Ennui
© Lord Alfred Douglas
Alas! and oh that Spring should come again
Upon the soft wings of desired days,
And bring with her no anodyne to pain,
And no discernment of untroubled ways.
The Shepherd's Wife's Song
© Robert Greene
His flocks are folded; he comes home at night
As merry as a king in his delight,
And merrier, too:
For kings bethink them what the state require,
Where shepherds, careless, carol by the fire:
Epigram For Wall Street
© Edgar Allan Poe
I'll tell you a plan for gaining wealth,
Better than banking, trade or leases
Take a bank note and fold it up,
And then you will find your money in creases!
An Epitaph upon Husband and Wife Who died and were buried together
© Richard Crashaw
TO these whom death again did wed
This grave 's the second marriage-bed.
Queries
© Wilcox Ella Wheeler
Well, how has it been with you since we met
That last strange time of a hundred times?
When we met to swear that we could forget
I your caresses, and you my rhymes
The Child's Music Lesson
© Archibald Lampman
Why weep ye in your innocent toil at all?
Sweet little hands, why halt and tremble so?
Wife To Husband
© Christina Georgina Rossetti
Pardon the faults in me,
For the love of years ago:
Good-bye.
I must drift across the sea,
I must sink into the snow,
I must die.
Sonnet 8: Love, Born In Greece
© Sir Philip Sidney
Love, born in Greece, of late fled from his native place,
Forc'd by a tedious proof, that Turkish harden'd heart
Is no fit mark to pierce with his fine pointed dart,
And pleas'd with our soft peace, stayed here his flying race.
The Abandoned
© Mathilde Blind
SHE sat by the wayside and wept, where roses, red roses and white,
Lay wasted and withered and sere, like her life and its ruined delight;
Like chaff blown about in the wind whirled roses, white roses and red,
And pale, on night's threshold, the moon bent over the day that was dead.
The Steamboat
© Oliver Wendell Holmes
See how yon flaming herald treads
The ridged and rolling waves,
Twist Ye, Twine Ye
© Sir Walter Scott
Twist ye, twine ye! even so,
Mingle shades of joy and woe,
Hope, and fear, and peace, and strife,
In the thread of human life.
The Hand In The Dark
© Ada Cambridge
How calm the spangled city spread below!
How cool the night! How fair the starry skies!
How sweet the dewy breezes! But I know
What, under all their seeming beauty, lies.
