All Poems
/ page 235 of 3210 /
After The Funeral (In Memory Of Ann Jones)
© Dylan Thomas
After the funeral, mule praises, brays,
Windshake of sailshaped ears, muffle-toed tap
Coomera
© Henry Lawson
THERES a pretty little story with a touch of moonlit glory
Comes from Beenleigh on the Logan, but we dont know if its true;
For we scarcely dare to credit evrything they say who edit
Those unhappy country papers twixt the ocean and Barcoo.
Sonnet X. To One Who Has Been Long In City Pent
© John Keats
To one who has been long in city pent,
'Tis very sweet to look into the fair
And open face of heaven -- to breathe a prayer
Full in the smile of the blue firmament.
The Trance
© Stephen Spender
Restless, you turn to me and press
Those timid words against my ear
Which thunder at my heart like stones.
"Mercy," you plead, Then "Who can bless?"
You ask. "I am pursued by Time," you moan.
The True Liberal
© Robert Fuller Murray
The truest Liberal is he
Who sees the man in each degree,
Who merit in a churl can prize,
And baseness in an earl despise,
Yet censures baseness in a churl,
And dares find merit in an earl.
The Martyr
© Herman Melville
(Indicative of the Passion of the People
on the 15th Day of April, 1865)
* * *
Churching Of Women
© John Keble
Is there, in bowers of endless spring,
One known from all the seraph band
By softer voice, by smile and wing
More exquisitely bland!
Here let him speed: to-day this hallowed air
Is fragrant with a mother's first and fondest prayer.
From My Childhood Days
© Friedrich Rückert
From my childhood days, from my childhood days,
Rings an old song's plaintive tone--
Oh, how long the ways, oh, how long the ways
I since have gone!
In The Wood
© Madison Julius Cawein
The waterfall, deep in the wood,
Talked drowsily with solitude,
A soft, insistent sound of foam,
That filled with sleep the forest's dome,
Where, like some dream of dusk, she stood
Accentuating solitude.
Giacinta
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
Giacinta sat upon the garden wall
Among the autumn lilies, and let fall
Their crimson petals on her lover's head,
And laughed because her little hands were red.
She was the fairest child of Italy,
And it was well the lilies thus should die.
Young Kings and Old
© Henry Lawson
The young man strives to determine which are the truths or lies,
And the old man preaches his sermonand he takes to his bed and dies;
And the parson is there, and the nurse is (or the bread is there and the wine)
And the son of the minister curses as he dies in the firing line.
Of The Three Seekers
© William Morris
Whither away to seek good cheer?
Ah me! said the third, that my love were anear!
Were the world as little as it is wide,
In a happy house should ye abide.
Were the world as kind as it is hard,
Ye should behold a fair reward.
Whatever Is--Is Best
© Wilcox Ella Wheeler
I know as my life grows older,
And mine eyes have clearer sight,
Of His Ladies Old Age
© Pierre de Ronsard
When you are very old, at evening
Youll sit and spin beside the fire, and say,
A Niello
© Madison Julius Cawein
It is not early spring and yet
Of bloodroot blooms along the stream,
And blotted banks of violet,
My heart will dream.
"Back To The Army Again"
© Rudyard Kipling
I'm 'ere in a ticky ulster an' a broken billycock 'at,
A-layin' on to the sergeant I don't know a gun from a bat;
My shirt's doin' duty for jacket, my sock's stickin' out o' my boots,
An' I'm learnin' the damned old goose-step along o' the new recruits!
The Cottage On The Hill
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
ON a steep hillside, to all airs that blow,
Open, and open to the varying sky,
Our cottage homestead, smiling tranquilly,
Catches morn's earliest and eve's latest glow;
L'art Et Le Peuple (Art And The People)
© Victor Marie Hugo
L'art, c'est la gloire et la joie.
Dans la tempête il flamboie ;
Il éclaire le ciel bleu.
L'art, splendeur universelle,
Au front du peuple étincelle,
Comme l'astre au front de Dieu.
