All Poems
/ page 275 of 3210 /To My Brother, Basil E. Kendall
© Henry Kendall
TO-NIGHT the sea sends up a gulf-like sound,
And ancient rhymes are ringing in my head,
Eros
© Coventry Kersey Dighton Patmore
Bright thro' the valley gallops the brooklet;
Over the welkin travels the cloud;
Cock-Crow
© Kenneth Slessor
THE cock's far cry
From lonely yards
Burdens the night
With boastful birds
Moses
© Thomas Parnell
Ile sing to God, Ile Sing ye songs of praise
To God triumphant in his wondrous ways,
To God whose glorys in the Seas excell,
Where the proud horse & prouder rider fell.
Given And Taken
© Rosanna Eleanor Leprohon
The snow-flakes were softly falling
Adown on the landscape white,
An Excellent New Song Being The Intended Speech Of A Famous Orator Against Peace
© Jonathan Swift
An orator dismal of Nottinghamshire,
Who has forty years let out his conscience to hire,
Out of zeal for his country, and want of a place,
Is come up, vi et armis, to break the queen's peace.
Octopus
© Arthur Clement Hilton
By Algernon Charles Sin-Burn
Strange beauty, eight-limbed and eight-handed,
Stanzas - To the Memory of an agreeable Lady, buried in marriage to a Person undeserving her
© William Shenstone
'Twas always held, and ever will,
By sage mankind, discreeter
To anticipate a lesser ill
Than undergo a greater.
Aintree Calls!
© William Henry Ogilvie
Gallops when the dawn is breaking,
Foam upon the breastplates flaking,
Dream Song 46
© John Berryman
I am, outside. Incredible panic rules.
People are blowing and beating each other without mercy.
Drinks are boiling. Iced
drinks are boiling. The worse anyone feels, the worse
treated he is. Fools elect fools.
A harmless man at an intersection said, under his breath, "Christ!"
The Rook And The Sparrows
© Charles Lamb
A little boy with crumbs of bread
Many a hungry sparrow fed.
"Nest ce pas quil est doux,"
© Charles Baudelaire
Is it not pleasant, now we are tired,
and tarnished, like other men, to search for those fires
in the furthest East, where, again, we might see
mornings new dawn, and, in mad history,
hear the echoes, that vanish behind us, the sighs
of the young loves, God gives, at the start of our lives?
Sonnet XXII. Pennyroyal.
© Christopher Pearse Cranch
HEAVY with cares no winnowing hand could sift,
Wrapt in a sadness never to be told,
As o'er the fields and through the woods I strolled,
Following with restless footstep but the drift
The Old Home By The Mill
© James Whitcomb Riley
This is "The old Home by the Mill"--far we still call it so,
Although the old mill, roof and sill, is all gone long ago.
The old home, though, and old folks, and the old spring, and a few
Old cat-tails, weeds and hartychokes, is left to welcome you!
By Mons. Fontenelle
© Matthew Prior
Ma petite ame, ma mignonne,
Tu t'en vas donc, má fille, et Dieu scache ou tu vas:
Tu pars seulette, nuë, et tremblotante, helas!
Que deviendra ton humeur folichonne?
Que deviendront tant de jolis ébats?
The Forest Greeting
© Paul Laurence Dunbar
GOOD hunting! aye, good hunting,
Wherever the forests call;
To Italy
© Percy Bysshe Shelley
As the sunrise to the night,
As the north wind to the clouds,
As the earthquake's fiery flight,
Ruining mountain solitudes,
Everlasting Italy,
Be those hopes and fears on thee.