All Poems
/ page 300 of 3210 /Sonnet XI: Tears, Vows, and Prayers
© Samuel Daniel
Tears, vows, and prayers win the hardest heart:
Tears, vows, and prayers have I spent in vain;
Cousel
© Abraham Cowley
AH! what advice can I receive!
No, satisfy me first;
For who would physick-potions give
To one that dies with thirst?
Sensitiveness
© John Henry Newman
Time was I shrank from what was right,
From fear of what was wrong;
I would not brave the sacred fight
Because the foe was strong.
The Old Days - And The New
© Alice Guerin Crist
Mid wattle scents and sounds of Spring,
The old man, dreaming in his chair,
Is back where skylarks soar and sing
In sunshine, oer the hills of Clare.
Tales Of A Wayside Inn : Part 1. The Musician's Tale; The Saga of King Olaf X. -- Raud The Strong
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
"All the old gods are dead,
All the wild warlocks fled;
The Love Sonnets Of Proteus. Part II: To Juliet: XLIV
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
THE SAME CONTINUED
Yet we shall live without love, as some live
Without their limbs, their senses, maimed or deaf.
We even shall forget love, and shall thrive
Song of the Old Boundary Rider
© Vance Palmer
Fat and full of health are the valleys of the Condamine,
There the yellow maize and the green tobacco grow,
Through the little gardens runs the trailing passion-vine,
And softly to the North the white downs flow.
The Blind God
© Madison Julius Cawein
I know not if she be unkind,
If she have faults I do not care;
Search through the world--where will you find
A face like hers, a form, a mind?
_I love her to despair._
A Stopwatch and an Ordnance Map
© Stephen Spender
A stopwatch and an ordnance map.
At five a man fell to the ground
Fifteen by Leslie Monsour: American Life in Poetry #38 Ted Kooser, U.S. Poet Laureate 2004-2006
© Ted Kooser
I'd guess that many women remember the risks and thrills of their first romantic encounters in much the same way California poet Leslie Monsour does in this poem.
Ballade Against The Jesuits
© Andrew Lang
SATAN, that pride did hurry to thy fall,
Thou porter of the grim infernal hall -
Thou keeper of the courts of souls unshriven!
To shun thy shafts, to 'scape thy hellish thrall,
Escobar makes a primrose path to heaven!
The Epiphany
© John Keble
Star of the East, how sweet art Thou,
Seen in life's early morning sky,
Ere yet a cloud has dimmed the brow,
While yet we gaze with childish eye;
A Wheat-Field Fantasy
© Harry Kemp
As I sat on a Kansas hilltop,
While, far away from my,
Rippled the lights and shadows
Dancing across acres of wheat,
From A Lost Anthology
© Marjorie Lowry Christie Pickthall
IN A STRANGE LAND.
By an unnamed river-anchorage have we raised a shrine to Apollo. If these strange winds cool the grass where he sleeps, we know not, nor if he will hear us. But round about grows the dark laurel, and here also the young oak fattens her acorns against the end of the wheat-harvest.
"Along the path thy bleeding feet"
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
ALONG the path thy bleeding feet have trod,
O Christian Mother! do the martyr-years,
Crownèd with suffering through the mist of tears
Uplift their brows, thorn-circled, unto God;