All Poems
/ page 2605 of 3210 /
Philomela
© Sir Philip Sidney
O Philomela fair, O take some gladness,
That here is juster cause of plaintful sadness:
Thine earth now springs, mine fadeth;
Thy thorn without, my thorn my heart invadeth.
The Green Of Michigan
© Edgar Albert Guest
I'VE seen the Rockies in the west,
I've seen the canyons wild and grim,
Astrophel And Stella - Sonnet CVIII
© Sir Philip Sidney
When Sorrow, using mine own fire's might,
Melts down his lead into my boiling breast,
Through that dark furnace to my heart oppressed,
There shines a joy from thee, my only light:
Indian Summer
© Sara Teasdale
Lyric night of the lingering Indian summer,
Shadowy fields that are scentless but full of singing,
Never a bird, but the passionless chant of insects,
Ceaseless, insistent.
Sonnet XXVII: Because I Oft
© Sir Philip Sidney
Because I oft in dark abstracted guise
Seem most alone in greatest company,
With dearth of words, or answers quite awry,
To them that would make speech of speech arise,
My Garden
© Eugene Field
My garden aboundeth in pleasant nooks
And fragrance is over it all;
For sweet is the smell of my old, old books
In their places against the wall.
Thou Blind Man's Mark
© Sir Philip Sidney
Thou blind man's mark, thou fool's self chosen snare,
Fond fancy's scum, and dregs of scatter'd thought,
Band of all evils, cradle of causeless care,
Thou web of will,whose end is never wrought.
Eyes
© Arthur Symons
Why does this passion I have for passionate eyes consume me?
Morbid enough the attraction, as the fashions in season
Sonnet III: With how sad steps
© Sir Philip Sidney
With how sad steps, O moon, thou climb'st the skies!
How silently, and with how wan a face!
What! may it be that even in heavenly place
That busy archer his sharp arrows tries?
Song from Arcadia
© Sir Philip Sidney
My true love hath my heart, and I have his,
By Just Exchange, one for the other given.
I hold his dear, and mine he cannot miss,
There never was a better bargain driven.
At Euroma
© Henry Kendall
They built his mound of the rough, red ground,
By the dip of a desert dell,
Astrophel And Stella-First Song
© Sir Philip Sidney
Doubt you to whom my Muse these notes intendeth,
Which now my breast o'ercharged to music lendeth?
To you, to you, all song of praise is due;
Only in you my song begins and endeth.
Moonstruck
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
I have quarrelled with the Moon. I loved her once,
As all boys love one face supremely fair.
I had heard her praised, and I too, happy dunce,
Let my tongue wag and made her my heart's prayer.
Astrophel And Stella-Sonnet XXXI
© Sir Philip Sidney
With how sad steps, O Moon, thou climb'st the skies!
How silently, and with how wan a face!
What! may it be that even in heavenly place
That busy archer his sharp arrows tries?
Astrophel and Stella XXXI
© Sir Philip Sidney
With how sad steps, O Moon, thou climb'st the skies!How silently, and with how wan a face!What, may it be that even in heav'nly placeThat busy archer his sharp arrows tries!Sure, if that long-with love-acquainted eyesCan judge of love, thou feel'st a lover's case,I read it in thy looks; thy languish'd graceTo me, that feel the like, thy state descries
Astrophel And Stella-Eleventh Song
© Sir Philip Sidney
"Who is it that this dark night
Underneath my window plaineth?"
'It is one who from thy sight
Being, ah! exiled, disdaineth
Every other vulgar light.'
Venetian Life
© Osip Emilevich Mandelstam
The meaning of somber and barren
Venetian life is clear to me:
Now she looks into a decrepit blue glass
With a cool smile.
Astrophel And Stella-Sonnet LIV
© Sir Philip Sidney
Because I breathe not love to every one,
Nor do not use set colours for to wear,
Nor nourish special locks of vowed hair,
Nor give each speech a full point of a groan,
Beatrice To Dante
© Dinah Maria Mulock Craik
REGARD me well: I am thy love, thy love;
Thy blessing, thy delight, thy hope, thy peace:
Thy joy above all joys that break and cease
When their full waves in widest circles move:
Sonnet I: Loving In Truth
© Sir Philip Sidney
Loving in truth, and fain in verse my love to show,
That she (dear She) might take some pleasure of my pain:
Pleasure might cause her read, reading might make her know,
Knowledge might pity win, and pity grace obtain;
