All Poems

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Old Spanish Song

© Eugene Field

I'm thinking of the wooing

  That won my maiden heart

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The Surprise Of Cremona

© Thomas Osborne Davis

I.

From Milan to Cremona Duke Villeroy rode,

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"Dank fens of cedar..."

© Frederick Goddard Tuckerman

Dank fens of cedar, hemlock-branches gray

With tress and trail of mosses wringing-wet;

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Song of the Guitar.

© Bai Juyi

In the tenth year of Yuanhe I was banished and demoted to be assistant official in Jiujiang. In the summer of the next year I was seeing a friend leave Penpu and heard in the midnight from a neighbouring boat a guitar played in the manner of the capital. Upon inquiry, I found that the player had formerly been a dancing-girl there and in her maturity had been married to a merchant. I invited her to my boat to have her play for us. She told me her story, heyday and then unhappiness. Since my departure from the capital I had not felt sad; but that night, after I left her, I began to realize my banishment. And I wrote this long poem - six hundred and twelve characters.

I was bidding a guest farewell, at night on the Xunyang River,

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Dedication

© Alfred Tennyson

Dedication
These to His Memory-since he held them dear,
Perchance as finding there unconsciously
Some image of himself-I dedicate,
I dedicate, I consecrate with tears-
These Idylls.

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Creeds

© Paul Hamilton Hayne

FRIEND, 'mid the complex and unnumbered creeds
Which meet and jostle on this mortal scene,
And sometimes fight a l'outrance, I perceive
Some precious seed of truth ennobling all:

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Trade Circular

© Kenneth Slessor

(To the Poets' Ladies)
SHALL I give you the Bourbon-sugars
Of sherry and yellow sky
And a girl in a country curricle

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Dusk

© Madison Julius Cawein

Corn-colored clouds upon a sky of gold,

And 'mid their sheaves,-where, like a daisy-bloom

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The Fate of the Explorers (A Fragment)

© Henry Kendall

Through that night he uttered little, rambling were the words he spoke:
And he turned and died in silence, when the tardy morning broke.
Many memories come together whilst in sight of death we dwell,
Much of sweet and sad reflection through the weary mind must well.
As those long hours glided past him, till the east with light was fraught,
Who may know the mournful secret — who can tell us what he thought?

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Lines Written After A Walk Before Supper

© Samuel Taylor Coleridge

Tho' much averse, dear Jack, to flicker,
To find a likeness for friend V----ker,
I've made, thro' earth, and air, and sea,
A voyage of discovery!

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To Shakespeare (III)

© Frances Anne Kemble

Shelter and succour such as common men

  Afford the weaker partners of their fate,

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Miranda’s Tomb

© Marjorie Lowry Christie Pickthall

MIRANDA? She died soon, and sick for home.

And dark Ilario the Milanese

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The Ruin And Its Flowers

© Felicia Dorothea Hemans

  Breathe, fragrance! breathe, enrich the air,
  Tho' wasted on its wing unknown!
  Blow, flow'rets! blow, tho' vainly fair,
  Neglected and alone!

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The Elements

© John Henry Newman

MAN is permitted much  

 To scan and learn  

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And, the Last Day Being Come

© Trumbull Stickney

And, the last day being come, Man stood alone
  Ere sunrise on the world's dismantled verge,
  Awaiting how from everywhere should urge
  The Coming of the Lord. And, behold, none

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Afterwards.

© Arthur Henry Adams

NOW that our pathways sever here,
And mine slopes down across the night,
Whence I shall see you burning clear
A beacon on the mountain-height —

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Progress

© George Meredith

In Progress you have little faith, say you:

Men will maintain dear interests, wreak base hates,

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In India's Dreamy Land

© Wilcox Ella Wheeler

In India's land one listens aghast
To the people who scream and bawl;
For each caste yells at a lower caste,
And the Britisher yells at them all.