All Poems
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Stanza From A Translation Of The Marseillaise Hymn
© Percy Bysshe Shelley
Tremble, Kings despised of man!
Ye traitors to your Country,
Tremble! Your parricidal plan
At length shall meet its destiny...
Absence
© Ethelwyn Wetherald
Dear grey-winged angel, with the mouth set stern
And time-devouring eyes, the sweetest sweet
Ode to Rae Wilson Esq.
© Thomas Hood
Mere verbiage,it is not worth a carrot!
Why, Socratesor Platowhere's the odds?
Once taught a jay to supplicate the Gods,
And made a Polly-theist of a Parrot!
On A Movement Of Beethovens
© George MacDonald
Ave! Once more touch the strings
That Memory may feed upon the strain,
And over-live again
The days,
When the heart gloried in the golden lays
That give the spirit wings.
Scandalous Song
© Millosh Gjergj Nikolla
A pale-faced nun who with the sins of this world
Bears my sins, too, upon her weary shoulders,
Those shoulders, wan as wax, which some deity has kissed,
Roams the streets like a fleeting angel.
Despondency
© Archibald Lampman
The weight and measure of these things who knows?
Resting at times beside life's thought-swept stream,
Sobered and stunned with unexpected blows,
We scarcely hear the uproar; life doth seem,
Save for the certain nearness of its woes,
Vain and phantasmal as a sick man's dream.
Die Gewissheit
© Gotthold Ephraim Lessing
Ob ich morgen leben werde,
Weiss ich freilich nicht:
Aber, wenn ich morgen lebe,
Dass ich morgen trinken werde,
Weiss ich ganz gewiss.
Ode To Fear
© Allen Tate
Let the day glare: O memory, your tread
Beats to the pulse of suffocating night-
Night peering from his dark but fire-lit head
Burns on the day his tense and secret light.
Poetic Eggs
© Ezra Pound
I am a grave poetic hen
That lays poetic eggs
And to enhance my temperament
A little quiet begs.
The Shag
© Celia Thaxter
"What is that great bird, sister, tell me,
Perched high on the top of the crag?"
"'T is the cormorant, dear little brother;
The fishermen call it the shag."
The Princess (part 6)
© Alfred Tennyson
My dream had never died or lived again.
As in some mystic middle state I lay;
Seeing I saw not, hearing not I heard:
Though, if I saw not, yet they told me all
So often that I speak as having seen.
To Emerson. On His 77th Birthday.
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
AH! what to him our trivial praise or blame,
Who through long years hath raised half-mournful eyes
Yearning to mark some heaven-descended flame
Light his soul's altar rife with sacrifice?
Washington!
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
Feb. 22, 1732
BRIGHT natal morn! what face appears
Beyond the rolling mist of years?
A face whose loftiest traits, combine
Childish Recollections
© George Gordon Byron
'I cannot but remember such things were,
And were most dear to me.'
WHEN slow Disease, with all her host of pains,
Chills the warm, tide which flows along the veins
A Welcome From The "Johnson Club"
© Henry Austin Dobson
When Pope came back from Trojan wars once more,
He found a Bard, to meet him on the shore,
And hail his advent with a strain as clear
As e'er was sung by BYRON or by FRERE.
De Snowbird
© William Henry Drummond
O leetle bird dat's come to us w'en stormy win' she's blowin',
An' ev'ry fiel' an' mountain top is cover wit' de snow,
How far from home you're flyin', noboddy's never knowin'
For spen' wit' us de winter tam, mon cher petit oiseau!
When The Storm Was Proudest
© George MacDonald
When the storm was proudest,
And the wind was loudest,
I heard the hollow caverns drinking down below;
When the stars were bright,
And the ground was white,
I heard the grasses springing underneath the snow.
Young Bicham
© Andrew Lang
In London city was Bicham born,
He longd strange countries for to see,
But he was taen by a savage Moor,
Who handld him right cruely.
