All Poems
/ page 2604 of 3210 /Birthday Verses
© James Russell Lowell
'Twas sung of old in hut and hall
How once a king in evil hour
Hung musing o'er his castle wall,
And, lost in idle dreams, let fall
Into the sea his ring of power.
Song
© Sir Philip Sidney
But who hath fancies pleased
With fruits of happy sight,
Let here his eyes be raised
On Nature's sweetest light!
Child's Park Stones
© Sylvia Plath
In sunless air, under pines
Green to the point of blackness, some
Founding father set these lobed, warped stones
To loom in the leaf-filtered gloom
Black as the charred knuckle-bones
Sonnet V: It Is Most True
© Sir Philip Sidney
It is most true, that eyes are form'd to serve
The inward light; and that the heavenly part
Ought to be king, from whose rules who do swerve,
Rebles to Nature, strive for their own smart.
The Cavalier's March To London
© Thomas Babbington Macaulay
To horse! to horse! brave Cavaliers!
To horse for Church and Crown!
Sonnet XV: You That Do Search
© Sir Philip Sidney
You that do search for every purling spring,
Which from the ribs of old Parnassus flows,
And every flower, not sweet perhaps, which grows
Near thereabouts, into your poesy wring;
Trio Of Love Songs
© Sylvia Plath
Major faults in granite
mark a mortal lack,
yet individual planet
directs all zodiac.
Sonnet XXVIII: You That With Allegory's Curious Frame
© Sir Philip Sidney
You that with allegory's curious frame,
Of others' children changelings use to make,
With me those pains for God's sake do not take:
I list not dig so deep for brazen fame.
Sonnet XXX: Whether the Turkish New Moon
© Sir Philip Sidney
Whether the Turkish new moon minded be
To fill his horns this year on Christian coast;
How Poles' right king means, with leave of host,
To warm with ill-made fire cold Muscovy;
Sonnet XXVI: Mid-Rapture
© Dante Gabriel Rossetti
Thou lovely and beloved, thou my love;
Whose kiss seems still the first; whose summoning eyes,
Sonnet XX: Fly, Fly, My Friends
© Sir Philip Sidney
Fly, fly, my friends, I have my death wound; fly!
See there that boy, that murthering boy I say,
Who like a thief, hid in dark bush doth lie,
Till bloody bullet get him wrongful prey.
March
© Isabella Valancy Crawford
Shall Thor with his hammer
Beat on the mountain,
As on an anvil,
A shackle and fetter?
The Bargain
© Sir Philip Sidney
MY true love hath my heart, and I have his,
By just exchange one for another given:
I hold his dear, and mine he cannot miss,
There never was a better bargain driven:
My true love hath my heart, and I have his.
Evening
© Paul Laurence Dunbar
The moon begins her stately ride
Across the summer sky;
The happy wavelets lash the shore,--
The tide is rising high.
Sonnet II: Not At First Sight
© Sir Philip Sidney
Not at first sight, nor with a dribbed shot
Love gave the wound, which while I breathe will bleed;
But known worth did in mine of time proceed,
Till by degrees it had full conquest got:
O, Were My Love Yon Lilac Fair
© Robert Burns
O, were my love yon lilac fair
Wi' purple blossoms to the spring,
Ring Out Your Bells
© Sir Philip Sidney
Ring out your bells, let mourning shows be spread;
For Love is dead--
All love is dead, infected
With plague of deep disdain;
Song
© Emily Jane Brontë
The linnet in the rocky dells,
The moor-lark in the air,
The bee among the heather bells
That hide my lady fair:
The Bison
© Hilaire Belloc
The Bison is vain, and (I write it with pain)
The Door-mat you see on his head
Is not, as some learned professors maintain,
The opulent growth of a genius brain;
But is sewn on with needle and thread.