All Poems
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Somewhere there is a simple life
© Anna Akhmatova
Somewhere there is a simple life and a world,
Transparent, warm and joyful. . .
There at evening a neighbor talks with a girl
Across the fence, and only the bees can hear
This most tender murmuring of all.
A Rainy Day On The Farm
© Aristophanes
How sweet it is to see the new-sown cornfield fresh and even,
With blades just springing from the soil that only ask a shower
Eleonora Duse As Magda
© Robert Laurence Binyon
The theatre is still, and Duse speaks.
What charm possesses all,
And what a bloom let fall
On parted lips, and eyes, and flushing cheeks!
England And Spain
© Felicia Dorothea Hemans
Illustrious names! still, still united beam,
Be still the hero's boast, the poet's theme:
So when two radiant gems together shine,
And in one wreath their lucid light combine;
Each, as it sparkles with transcendant rays,
Adds to the lustre of its kindred blaze.
The Stylite
© Rainer Maria Rilke
He nearly drowned in hermit-seeking seas
Of visitors those voids he had allowed
To suck his soul damned sycophantic fleas!
Wrenching himself from the besieging crowd,
He gripped with clammy hands and bulbous knees
Hills Of The West
© Madison Julius Cawein
Hills of the west, that gird
Forest and farm,
Home of the nestling bird,
Housing from harm,
When on your tops is heard
Storm:
Minstrels
© William Wordsworth
The minstrels played their Christmas tune
To-night beneath my cottage-eaves;
While, smitten by a lofty moon,
The encircling laurels, thick with leaves,
Gave back a rich and dazzling sheen,
That overpowered their natural green.
The Poet's Hope.
© Robert Crawford
The wild hope of the poet finds a home
In the immaterial, as he clothes himself
In visionary raiment far off, where
The echoes of eternity are heard
And the immortal entities appear.
Introduction: The Bad Child's Book of Beasts
© Hilaire Belloc
I call you bad, my little child,
Upon the title page,
Because a manner rude and wild
Is common at your age.
Songs Set To Music: 16. Set By Mr. Smith
© Matthew Prior
Accept, my Love, as true a heart
As ever lover gave;
'Tis free (it vows) from my art,
And proud to be your slave.
Er Duello De Davide (David's Duel)
© Giuseppe Gioacchino Belli
Cos'è er braccio de Dio! mannà un fischietto
Contr'a quer buggiarone de Golìa,
Che si n'avessi avuto fantasia
Lo poteva ammazzà cor un fichetto!
The Adventurer
© Edith Nesbit
THE land of gold was far away,
The sea a challenge roared between;
I left my throne, my crown, my queen,
And sailed out of the quiet bay.
Marching by Jim Harrison: American Life in Poetry #51 Ted Kooser, U.S. Poet Laureate 2004-2006
© Ted Kooser
Walt Whitman's poems took in the world through a wide-angle lens, including nearly everything, but most later poets have focused much more narrowly. Here the poet and novelist Jim Harrison nods to Whitman with a sweeping, inclusive poem about the course of life.
Marching
March
© John Payne
MARCH comes at last, the labouring lands to free.
Rude blusterer, with thy cloud-compelling blast,
Loves Autumn [To My Wife.]
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
I WOULD not lose a single silvery ray
Of those white locks which like a milky way
Streak the dusk midnight of thy raven hair;
To The Supreme Being From The Italian Of Michael Angelo
© William Wordsworth
THE prayers I make will then be sweet indeed
If Thou the spirit give by which I pray:
My unassisted heart is barren clay,
That of its native self can nothing feed:
Autumn
© David MacDonald Ross
If o'er the bare fields, cold and whitening
With the first snow-flakes, I should see thy form,
And meet and kiss thee, that were enough of Spring;
Enough of sunshine, could I feel the warm
Glad beating of thy heart 'neath Winter's wing,
Tho' Earth were full of whirlwind and of storm.
