All Poems
/ page 2585 of 3210 /
Skipper Ireson's Ride
© John Greenleaf Whittier
Of all the rides since the birth of time,
Told in story or sung in rhyme, -
On Apuleius' Golden Ass,
Or one-eyed Calendar's horse of brass,
Randolph Of Roanoke
© John Greenleaf Whittier
O Mother Earth! upon thy lap
Thy weary ones receiving,
And o'er them, silent as a dream,
Thy grassy mantle weaving,
Song II
© Mathilde Blind
ALL my heart is stirring lightly
Like dim violets winter-bound,
Quickening as they feel the brightly
Glowing sunlight underground.
My Triumph
© John Greenleaf Whittier
The autumn-time has come;
On woods that dream of bloom,
And over purpling vines,
The low sun fainter shines.
O Wind, Why Do You Never Rest
© Christina Georgina Rossetti
O wind, why do you never rest
Wandering, whistling to and fro,
Bringing rain out of the west,
From the dim north bringing snow?
Maud Muller
© John Greenleaf Whittier
Maud Muller on a summer's day
Raked the meadow sweet with hay. Beneath her torn hat glowed the wealth
Of simple beauty and rustic health. Singing, she wrought, and her merry gleee
The mock-bird echoed from his tree. But when she glanced to the far-off town
Soul Receives From Soul
© Mewlana Jalaluddin Rumi
If knowledge of mysteries come after
emptiness of mind, that is illumination of heart.
Massachusetts To Virginia
© John Greenleaf Whittier
The blast from Freedom's Northern hills, upon its Southern way,
Bears greeting to Virginia from Massachusetts Bay:
No word of haughty challenging, nor battle bugle's peal,
Nor steady tread of marching files, nor clang of horsemen's steel,
Hard Times
© Rabindranath Tagore
Music is silenced, the dark descending slowly
Has stripped unending skies of all companions.
Weariness grips your limbs and within the locked horizons
Dumbly ring the bells of hugely gathering fears.
Still, O bird, O sightless bird,
Not yet, not yet the time to furl your wings.
Laus Deo
© John Greenleaf Whittier
It is done!
Clang of bell and roar of gun
Send the tidings up and down.
How the belfries rock and reel!
How the great guns, peal on peal,
Fling the joy from town to town!
Hymn to God, My God, in my Sickness
© John Donne
Since I am coming to that holy room,
Where, with thy choir of saints for evermore,
I shall be made thy music; as I come
I tune the instrument here at the door,
And what I must do then, think here before.
Kallundborg Church ( From The Tent on the Beach)
© John Greenleaf Whittier
"Tie stille, barn min!
Imorgen kommer Fin,
Fa'er din,
Og gi'er dich Esbern Snares öine og hjerte at lege med!"
Zealand Rhyme.
To A Buddha Seated On A Lotus
© Sarojini Naidu
LORD BUDDHA, on thy Lotus-throne,
With praying eyes and hands elate,
What mystic rapture dost thou own,
Immutable and ultimate?
What peace, unravished of our ken,
Annihilate from the world of men?
Immortal love, forever full
© John Greenleaf Whittier
Immortal love, forever full,
Forever flowing free,
Forever shared, forever whole,
A never ebbing sea!
The Soudanese
© William Watson
They wrong'd not us, nor sought 'gainst us to wage
The bitter battle. On their God they cried
Ichabod
© John Greenleaf Whittier
So fallen! so lost! the light withdrawn
Which once he wore!
The glory from his gray hairs gone
Forevermore!
Upon Perusing The Forgoing Epistle Thirty Years After Its Composition
© William Wordsworth
SOON did he Almighty Giver of all rest
Take those dear young Ones to a fearless nest;
And in Death's arms has long reposed the Friend
For whom this simple Register was penned.
Godspeed
© John Greenleaf Whittier
Outbound, your bark awaits you. Were I one
Whose prayer availeth much, my wish should be
Your favoring trad-wind and consenting sea.
By sail or steed was never love outrun,
Dramatic Fragment
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
WE might have been! ah, yes! we might have been
Among the laurelled noblemen of thought,
Who lift their species with them as they climb
To deathless empire in the realm of gods;
