All Poems
/ page 229 of 3210 /The Wakeful Sleeper
© George MacDonald
When things are holding wonted pace
In wonted paths, without a trace
Or hint of neighbouring wonder,
Sometimes, from other realms, a tone,
A scent, a vision, swift, alone,
Breaks common life asunder.
Do You?
© Edgar Albert Guest
YOU pay what you owe to your neighbor, I know,
You do the square thing by your brother,
Serenade
© Kenneth Slessor
THOU moon, like a white Christus hanging
At the sky's cross-roads, I'll court thee not,
Though travellers bend up, and seek thy grace.
Let them go truckle with their gifts and singing,
The Sleeping Beauty
© Mathilde Blind
For now the Sun had found the earth once more,
And woke the Sleeping Beauty with a kiss;
Who thrilled with light of love in every pore,
Opened her flower-blue eyes, and looked in his.
Then all things felt life fluttering at their core-
The world shook mystical in lambent bliss.
Thou Art Indeed Just, Lord
© Gerard Manley Hopkins
Sir, life upon thy cause. See, banks and brakes
Now, leav{`e}d how thick! lac{`e}d they are again
With fretty chervil, look, and fresh wind shakes
Them; birds build - but not I build; no, but strain,
Time's eunuch, and not breed one work that wakes.
Mine, O thou lord of life, send my roots rain.
The Star-Spangled Banner
© Francis Scott Key
O! say can you see, by the dawn's early light,
What so proudly we hail'd at the twilight's last gleaming,
Bread And Milk For Breakfast
© Christina Georgina Rossetti
Bread and milk for breakfast,
And woollen frocks to wear,
And a crumb for robin redbreast
On the cold days of the year.
Cottage-Songs
© George MacDonald
Close her eyes: she must not peep!
Let her little puds go slack;
Slide away far into sleep:
Sis will watch till she comes back!
Happiness
© Edith Wharton
THIS perfect love can find no words to say.
What words are left, still sacred for our use,
Man the Monarch
© Mary Leapor
A tattling Dame, no matter where, or who;
Me it concerns not-and it need not you;
Once told this Story to the listening Muse,
Which we, as now it serves our Turn, shall use.
Wasps In A Garden
© Charles Lamb
The wall-trees are laden with fruit;
The grape, and the plum, and the pear,
The peach and the nectarine, to suit
Every taste, in abundance are there.
Lines
© Louisa Lawson
Oh, there is a being that haunteth my dreams
When night sendeth slumber to me,
So like thee that of ten in waking it seems
It cannot be other than thee.
The Comparison, the Choice, and the Enjoyment.
© Mather Byles
I.
Who on the Earth, or in the Skies,
Thy Beauties can declare?
Jesus, dear Object of my Eyes,
My Everlasting Fair.
This Summer Morning Mariana Has
© Eli Siegel
Mariana, with the morning so,
Walking one morning up a road near woods,
With the sun young that morning,
And the dew not long gone from grass and roses;
On Visiting the Graves of Hawthorne and Thoreau
© Jones Very
Beneath these shades, beside yon winding stream,
Lies Hawthorne's manly form, the mortal part!
I Loved
© Vahan Tekeyan
I loved; yet not even one
Of those I loved ever knew
How dearly, how well I loved...
Who knows how to read the heart?