All Poems
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The Australian Sunrise
© James Lister Cuthbertson
The Morning Star paled slowly, the Cross hung low to the sea,
And down the shadowy reaches the tide came swirling free,
An Irish Mother
© William Percy French
Great wages men is givin'
In the land beyant the say,
But 'tis lonely lonely livin'
Whin the childher is away.
When The Green Gits Back In The Trees
© James Whitcomb Riley
In spring, when the green gits back in the trees,
And the sun comes out and stays,
The Avenging Spirit
© Arthur Symons
So you have drugged me with this poisoned wine
Because I never loved you; trees writhe grim
The Lotus-Flower
© Roderic Quinn
All the heights of the high shores gleam
Red and gold at the sunset hour:
There comes the spell of a magic dream,
And the Harbour seems a lotus-flower;
House Or Window Flies
© John Clare
These little window dwellers, in cottages and halls, were always
entertaining to me; after dancing in the window all day from sunrise
The Meeting
© Harriet Monroe
The ox-team and the automobile
Stood face to face on the long red road,
The long red road was narrow
At the turn of the hill,
And below was the sun-dancing river
Afoam over the rocks.
Rome
© Arthur Symons
A high and naked square, a lonely palm;
Columns thrown down, a high and lonely tower;
Danube And The Euxine
© William Edmondstoune Aytoun
"Danube, Danube! wherefore com'st thou
Red and raging to my caves?
At The Gate
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
Within, what new life waits me! Little ease,
Cold lying, hunger, nights of wakefulness,
Harsh orders given, no voice to soothe or please,
Poor thieves for friends, for books rules meaningless;
This is the grave--nay, Hell. Yet, Lord of Might,
Still in Thy light my spirit shall see light.
The Olde, Olde, very Olde Man; or The Age and Long Life of Thomas Parr
© John Taylor
Good wholesome labour was his exercise,
Down with the lamb, and with the lark would rise:
In mire and toiling sweat he spent the day,
And to his team he whistled time away:
Nobility
© Kostas Karyotakis
Make your pain into a harp.
Become a nightingale,
become a flower.
When bitter years arrive,
make your pain into a harp
and sing the one song.
Revisited
© Madison Julius Cawein
It was beneath a waning moon when all the woods were sear,
And winds made eddies of the leaves that whispered far and near,
I met her on the old mill-bridge we parted at last year.
Ode: To be performed by Dr. Brettle, and a chorus of Halesowen citizens
© William Shenstone
Awake! I say, awake, good people!
And be for once alive and gay;
Come, let's be merry; stir the tipple;
How can you sleep?
Whilst I do play? How can you sleep? &c.
Biography
© John Masefield
Yet when I am dust my penman may not know
Those water-trampling ships which made me glow,
But think my wonder mad and fail to find,
Their glory, even dimly, from my mind,
And yet they made me:
Lebid
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
Gone are they the lost camps, light flittings, long sojournings
in Miná, in Gháula, Rijám left how desolate.
Lost are they. Rayyán lies lorn with its white torrent beds,
scored in lines like writings left by the flood--water.
Peace
© Alfred Noyes
Give me the pulse of the tide again
And the slow lapse of the leaves,
The rustling gold of a field of grain
And a bird in the nested eaves;
