All Poems
/ page 2606 of 3210 /Astrophel and Stella: I
© Sir Philip Sidney
ASTROPHEL AND STELLA: I
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,
Of The Nature Of Things: Book VI - Part 01 - Proem
© Lucretius
And since I've taught thee that the world's great vaults
Are mortal and that sky is fashioned
Of frame e'en born in time, and whatsoe'er
Therein go on and must perforce go on
Leave Me, O Love Which Reachest But To Dust
© Sir Philip Sidney
Leave me, O love which reachest but to dust,
And thou, my mind, aspire to higher things;
Grow rich in that which never taketh rust:
Whatever fades but fading pleasure brings.
Nughtingale And Cuckoo
© Alfred Austin
Yes, nightingale and cuckoo! it was meet
That you should come together; for ye twain
Loving In Truth, And Fain In Verse My Love To Show
© 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
Come Sleep, O Sleep! The Certain Knot Of Peace
© Sir Philip Sidney
Come, Sleep! O Sleep, the certain knot of peace,
The baiting-place of wit, the balm of woe,
The poor man's wealth, the prisoner's release,
Th' indifferent judge between the high and low;
Scented Herbage Of My Breast
© Walt Whitman
SCENTED herbage of my breast,
Leaves from you I yield, I write, to be perused best afterwards,
Sleep
© Sir Philip Sidney
Come Sleep; O Sleep! the certain knot of peace,
The baiting-place of wit, the balm of woe,
The poor man's wealth, the prisoner's release,
Th' indifferent judge between the high and low;
The Ancient Lays
© Franklin Pierce Adams
I cannot sing the old songs
I sang long years ago,
But I can always hear them
At any vodevil show.
To The Sad Moon
© 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?
Poetry Readings
© Charles Bukowski
I am ashamed for them,
I am ashamed that they have to bolster each other,
I am ashamed for their lisping egos,
their lack of guts.
My True Love Hath My Heart, And I Have His
© Sir Philip Sidney
My true-love hath my heart, and I have his,
By just exchange, one for the other giv'n.
I hold his dear, and mine he cannot miss;
There never was a better bargain driv'n.
The Broken Soldier
© Katharine Tynan
The broken soldier sings and whistles day to dark;
He's but the remnant of a man, maimed and half-blind,
But the soul they could not harm goes singing like the lark,
Like the incarnate Joy that will not be confined.
Lincoln
© John Gould Fletcher
Like a gaunt, scraggly pine
Which lifts its head above the mournful sandhills;
And patiently, through dull years of bitter silence,
Untended and uncared for, starts to grow.
Sun and Shadow
© Oliver Wendell Holmes
As I look from the isle, o'er its billows of green,
To the billows of foam-crested blue,
Spring
© John Gould Fletcher
At the first hour, it was as if one said, "Arise."
At the second hour, it was as if one said, "Go forth."
And the winter constellations that are like patient ox-eyes
Sank below the white horizon at the north.
A Nameless Grave
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
"A soldier of the Union mustered out,"
Is the inscription on an unknown grave