All Poems
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The Foolish Traveller; Or, A Good Inn Is A Bad Home
© Hannah More
There was a Prince of high degree,
As great and good as Prince could be;
Much power and wealth were in his hand,
With Lands and Lordships at command.
Dumbness
© Thomas Traherne
Sure Man was born to meditate on things,
And to contemplate the eternal springs
Zueignung
© Heinrich Heine
Mir träumte einst von wildem Minneglüh'n,
Von hübschen Locken, Myrten und Resede,
Von süßen Lippen und von bittrer Rede,
Von düst'rer Lieder düster'n Melodie'n.
Want To Be Whur Mother Is
© James Whitcomb Riley
"Want to be whur mother is! Want to be whur mother is!"
Jeemses Rivers! won't some one ever shet that howl o' his?
That-air yellin' drives me wild!
Cain't none of ye stop the child?
Want jer Daddy? "Naw." Gee whizz!
"Want to be whur mother is!"
One Ran Before
© Yvor Winters
I could tell
Of silence where
One ran before
Himself and fell
Into silence
Yet more fair.
War
© Percy Bysshe Shelley
Ambition, power, and avarice, now have hurled
Death, fate, and ruin, on a bleeding world.
See! on yon heath what countless victims lie,
Hark! what loud shrieks ascend through yonder sky;
Joseph
© Isabel Ecclestone Mackay
The mother smiled
As one who knew; and it is true they knelt
As to a King. The thing disturbs me much!
I'll ask--but no . . . . .
Spoken of Several Philosophers
© George MacDonald
I pray you, all ye men who put your trust
In moulds and systems and well-tackled gear,
The Family Laramie
© William Henry Drummond
Hssh! look at ba-bee on de leetle blue chair,
W'at you t'ink hes tryin' to do?
A New Pilgrimage: Sonnet X
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
Whence is our pleasure in things beautiful?
We are not born with it, we do not know,
By instinct of the eye or natural rule,
That naked rocks are fairest, or flowers blow
Shadow
© Guillaume Apollinaire
Here you are beside me again
Memories of my companions killed in the war
Come to the park they say is dead, and view
© Stefan Anton George
The purple on the twists of wilding vine,
The last of asters you shall not forget,
And what of living verdure lingers yet,
Around the autumn vision lightly twine.
Melancholy. A Fragment.
© Samuel Taylor Coleridge
Stretched on a mouldered Abbey's broadest wall,
Where ruining ivies propped the ruins steep--
Her folded arms wrapping her tattered pall,
Had Melancholy mused herself to sleep.
Meditations Upon A Candle
© John Bunyan
Man's like a candle in a candlestick,
Made up of tallow and a little wick;
The Soul-Conflict
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
DEFEATED! but never disheartened!
Repulsed! but unconquered in will,
Upon dreary discomfitures building
Her virtue's strong battlements still,
Intima (Intimate)
© Delmira Agustini
Yo te diré los sueños de mi vida
En lo más hondo de la noche azul…
Mi alma desnuda temblará en tus manos,
Sobre tus hombros pesará mi cruz.
Compensation -- English Translation
© Rabindranath Tagore
Once I had a fancy to compose an epic
But by a sudden touch of your bangles
It burst into thousand songs
As a result of that accident
That epic is lying at my feet in smithereens.
