All Poems

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Spring Thunder

© Mark van Doren

Listen, The wind is still,
And far away in the night --
See! The uplands fill
With a running light.

George Macdonald

© Katharine Lee Bates

I HEARD him preach in Oxford years ago,

A snowy-haired and tender-faced apostle.

Our Lady Peace

© Mark van Doren

How far is it to peace, the piper sighed,
The solitary, sweating as he paused.
Asphalt the noon; the ravens, terrified,
Fled carrion thunder that percussion caused.

Episode

© Zbigniew Herbert

We walk by the sea-shore
holding firmly in our hands
the two ends of an antique dialogue
do you love me?
I love you

Nothing Stays

© Mark van Doren

Nothing stays
not even change,
That can grow tired
of it's own name;
The very thought
too much for it.

Morning Worship

© Mark van Doren

I wake and hearing it raining.
Were I dead, what would I give
Lazily to lie here,
Like this, and live?

The Cities Of White Men

© Anonymous

Those men build many houses:
They dig the earth, and they build;
They cut down the trees, and they build;
They work always - building.

And he has terrors that he can release.
But when he looks he loves me; which is why
I wonder; and my wonder must increase
Till more of it shall slay me. Yet I live,
I live; and he has never ceased to give
This glance at me that sweetens the whole sky.

To Giovanni Salzilli, A Roman Poet, In His Illness. Scazons (Translated From Milton)

© William Cowper

My halting Muse, that dragg'st by choice along

Thy slow, slow step, in melancholy song!

Farewell and Thanksgiving

© Mark van Doren

Whatever I have left unsaid
When I am dead
O'muse forgive me.
You were always there,

Love-Children

© Robinson Jeffers

The trails high up on the ridge, no one goes down

But the east wind and the falling water the concave slope without a name to the little bay

Dunce Songs : 9

© Mark van Doren

Love me little, love me long,
Then we neither can be wrong:
You in giving, I in taking;
There is nor a heart breaking
But remembers one touch,
Or maybe seven, of too much.

Lord William

© Robert Southey

No eye beheld when William plunged
Young Edmund in the stream,
No human ear but William's heard
Young Edmund's drowning scream.

Born Brothers

© Mark van Doren

Nor do born brothers judge, as good or ill,
Their being. Each consents and is the same,
Or suddenly sweet winds turn into flame
And floods are on us--fire, earth, water, air
All hideously parted, as his will
Withdraws, no longer fatherly and there.

Flower of Youth

LEST Heaven be thronged with grey-beards hoary,
God, who made boys for His delight,
Stoops in a day of grief and glory
And calls them in, in from the night.
When they come trooping from the war
Our skies have many a new gold star.

After Long Drought

The whole world dreamed of this, and has it now.
Nor was the waking easy. The dull root
Is jealous of its death; the sleepy brow
Smiles in its slumber; and a heart can fear
The very flood it longed for, roaring near.
The spirit best remembers being mute.

How The Cat Was Belled

The poor rats were at their wits' end
Their homes and families to defend;
And as a last resort
They took the case to court.

Je Suis une table

© Donald Hall

It has happened suddenly,
by surprise, in an arbor,
or while drinking good coffee,
after speaking, or before,

Ode to Borrowdale

© Amelia Opie

Hail , Derwent's beauteous pride!
Whose charms rough rocks in threatening grandeur guard,
Whose entrance seems to mortals barred,
But to the Genius of the storm thrown wide.