All Poems
/ page 312 of 3210 /
To George H. Boker
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
IT hath been thine to prove what use and power,
What sweetness, and what glorious strength belong
To the brief compass of that slandered song
We term the Sonnet. Thine hath been the dower
The Muses Threnodie: Second Muse
© Henry Adamson
Then thus, quod I, good Gall, I pray thee show,
For cleerly all antiquities yee know:
What mean these skonses, and these hollow trenches,
Throughout these fallow fields and yonder inches?
And these great heaps of stones like piramids,
Doubtless all these ye knew, that so much reads;
The Dawn
© George MacDonald
And must I ever wake, gray dawn, to know
Thee standing sadly by me like a ghost?
Love, We're Going Home Now
© Pablo Neruda
Love, we're going home now,
Where the vines clamber over the trellis:
Even before you, the summer will arrive,
On its honeysuckle feet, in your bedroom.
Love's Baptism
© Emily Dickinson
I'm ceded, I've stopped being theirs;
The name they dropped upon my face
With water, in the country church,
Is finished using now,
Miriam
© John Greenleaf Whittier
But over Akbar's brows the frown hung black,
And, turning to the eunuch at his back,
"Take them," he said, "and let the Jumna's waves
Hide both my shame and these accursed slaves!"
His loathly length the unsexed bondman bowed
"On my head be it!"
Massas in de Cold Ground
© Stephen C. Foster
Down in de corn-field
Hear dat mournful sound:
All de darkeys am a-weeping,
Massas in de cold, cold ground.
Sonnet XLV. Tennyson. 1.
© Christopher Pearse Cranch
His brows were circled by a wreath of bays,
The symbol of the bard's well-earned renown
Upon his head more regal than the crown
Of kings. For he by his immortal lays
Rosy, My Dear
© Louisa May Alcott
"Rosy, my dear,
Don't cry,--I'm here
To help you all I can.
I'm only a fly,
But you'll see that I
Will keep my word like a man."
Era.m conseillatz
© Bernard de Ventadorn
Garsio, ara.m chantat
ma chanso, et la.m portat
a mo Messager, qu'i fo,
q'elh quer cosselh qu'el me do.
Strange Is The Path When You Offer Love
© Mirabai
Do not mention the name of love,
O my simple-minded companion.
Strange is the path
When you offer your love.
Your body is crushed at the first step.
On Female Inconstancy (From The Greek)
© William Cowper
Rich, thou hadst many lovers -- poor, hast none,
So surely want extinguishes the flame,
And she who call'd thee once her pretty one,
And her Adonis, now inquires thy name.
Swiss Air
© Francis Bret Harte
I'm a gay tra, la, la,
With my fal, lal, la, la,
And my bright--
And my light--
Tra, la, le. [Repeat.]
Memory
© Stephen Vincent Benet
They can have the names and the dates,
It will do them little service.
Maha-Bharata, The Epic Of Ancient India - Book XII - Aswa-Medha - (Sacrifice Of The Horse)
© Romesh Chunder Dutt
The real Epic ends with the war and the funerals of the deceased
warriors. Much of what follows in the original Sanscrit poem is
