All Poems
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The Crocus Bed
© Isabel Ecclestone Mackay
YELLOW as the noonday sun,
Purple as a day that's done,
White as mist that lingers pale
On the edge of morning's veil,
Delicate as love's first kiss--
Crocuses are just like this.
Another Fragment to Music
© Percy Bysshe Shelley
No, Music, thou art not the 'food of Love.'
Unless Love feeds upon its own sweet self,
Till it becomes all Music murmurs of.
Upon the Late Storm
© Edmund Waller
[And Death of His Highness Ensuing the Same.]
We must resign! Heaven his great soul does claim
Mother and Daughter- Sonnet Sequence
© Augusta Davies Webster
Oh goddess head! Oh innocent brave eyes!
Oh curved and parted lips where smiles are rare
And sweetness ever! Oh smooth shadowy hair
Gathered around the silence of her brow!
Child, I'd needs love thy beauty stranger-wise:
And oh the beauty of it, being thou!
If I Forget Thee, O Jerusalem
© Jean Ingelow
'Many,' methought, 'and rich
They must have been, so long their chronicle.
Perhaps the world was fuller then of folk,
For ships at sea are few that near us now.'
Venice
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
White swan of cities, slumbering in thy nest
So wonderfully built among the reeds
Supplication
© Edgar Lee Masters
Oh Lord, when all our bones are thrust
Beyond the gaze of all but Thine;
And these blaspheming tongues are dust
Which babbled of Thy name divine,
Clarification To My Poetry-Readers
© Nizar Qabbani
And of me say the fools:
I entered the lodges of women
Childhood
© Jose Asuncion Silva
These recollections with the scent of ferns
Are the idyll of early years
(Gregorio Gutierrez González)
The Temple
© Virna Sheard
Enter the temple beautiful! The house not made with hands!
Rain-washed and green, wind-swept and clean,
Beneath the blue it stands,
And no cathedral anywhere
Seemeth so holy or so fair.
The Solitarys Wine
© Charles Baudelaire
A flirtatious womans singular gaze
as she slithers towards you, like the white rays
the vibrant moon throws on the trembling sea
where she wishes to bathe her casual beauty,
If The Advertising Man Had Been Praed, Or Locker
© Franklin Pierce Adams
"C'est distingue," says Madame La Mode.
Subtly distinctive as a fabric fair;
Nor Keats nor Shelley in his loftiest ode
Could thrum the line to tell how it will wear.
To A Captious Critic
© Paul Laurence Dunbar
Dear critic, who my lightness so deplores,
Would I might study to be prince of bores,
Right wisely would I rule that dull estate--
But, sir, I may not, till you abdicate.
Your Own Fair Youth
© Alice Meynell
To guard all joys of yours from Time's estranging,
I shall then be a treasury where your gay,
Happy, and pensive past unaltered is.
I shall then be a garden charmed from changing,
In which your June has never passed away.
Walk there awhile among my memories.
On The Same Occasion
© William Wordsworth
(The Final Submission Of The Tyrolese)
YE Storms, resound the praises of your King!
And ye mild Seasons--in a sunny clime,
Midway on some high hill, while father Time
To M.L. Gray,
© Eugene Field
Come, dear old friend, and with us twain
To calm Digentian groves repair;
The turtle coos his sweet refrain
And posies are a-blooming there;
And there the romping Sabine girls
Bind myrtle in their lustrous curls.
Missing
© Katharine Tynan
He is "Missing," and forlorn
Drag her days in grief and pain.
Every morn a hope is born,
Only to be lost again.
The Originals
© Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
A FELLOW says: "I own no school or college;
No master lives whom I acknowledge;
And pray don't entertain the thought
That from the dead I e'er learnt aught."
This, if I rightly understand,
Means: "I'm a blockhead at first hand."
