All Poems
/ page 332 of 3210 /
Spring In War Time
© Sara Teasdale
I feel the spring far off, far off,
The faint, far scent of bud and leaf --
Oh, how can spring take heart to come
To a world in grief,
Deep grief?
Bouche-Mignonne
© Isabella Valancy Crawford
BOUCHE-MIGNONNE lived in the mill,
Past the vineyards shady,
Where the sun shone on a rill
Jewelled like a lady.
The Sinner and The Spider
© John Bunyan
Not filthy as thyself in name or feature.
My name entailed is to my creation,
My features from the God of thy salvation.
A Garden-Seat At Home
© William Lisle Bowles
Oh, no; I would not leave thee, my sweet home,
Decked with the mantling woodbine and the rose,
Fragment XV
© James Macpherson
Lamderg! says Firchios son of Aydon,
Gealchossa may be on the hill;
she and her chosen maids pursuing the
flying deer.
Butterfly.
© Robert Crawford
In the fierce light the butterfly wings free
So delicate, and yet so fibred to
Withstand the stress a giant would faint under.
Homage To Quintus Septimus Florentis Christianus
© Ezra Pound
I
(Ex libris Graecæ)
Theodorus will be pleased at my death,
And .someone else will be pleased at the death of Theodoras,
And yet everyone speaks evil of death.
At Issue
© Dante Gabriel Rossetti
THAT voice I hear,how heard I cannot tell,
Although my home is this, seems from my home:
Flutter, Little Bird
© George Ade
Flutter, little bird and keep on trying,
By and by you will be flying;
You can do it, take my word,
Keep on fluttering, little bird.
The Snow-Drop
© Henry James Pye
Hail earliest of the opening flowers!
Fair Harbinger of vernal hours!
Uncle Out O Debt An Out O Danger
© William Barnes
His meäre's long vlexy vetlocks grow'd
Down roun' her hoofs so black an' brode;
Her head hung low, her taïl reach'd down
A-bobbèn nearly to the groun'.
The cwoat that uncle mwostly wore
Wer long behind an' straïght avore,
New Spring (1831)
© Heinrich Heine
Soft, aloft, the bells do ring,
Gentlest thoughts they sing me.
Ring and sing, my song of spring,
Through the blue sky wing thee
San Terenzo
© Andrew Lang
MID April seemed like some November day,
When through the glassy waters, dull as lead,
The Knitting Song
© Jessie Pope
Click -- click -- click,
How they dart and flick,
Flashing in the firelight to and fro!
Now for purl and plain,
Round and round again,
Knitting love and luck in every row.
Bullocky
© Judith Wright
Beside his heavy-shouldered team
thirsty with drought and chilled with rain,
he weathered all the striding years
till they ran widdershins in his brain:
The Conference
© Charles Churchill
Grace said in form, which sceptics must agree,
When they are told that grace was said by me;
Hear What The Mournful Linnets Say
© Christina Georgina Rossetti
Hear what the mournful linnets say:
We built our nest compact and warm,
The Pastime of Pleasure: Of dysposycyon the II. parte of rethoryke - (til line 3017)
© Stephen Hawes
How la bell pucell graunted Graunde Amoure loue / and of her dyspytous departyoge. Ca. xix.
2241 Your wo & payne / & all your languysshynge
2242 Contynually / ye shall not spende in vayne
2243 Sythen I am cause / of your grete mornynge
Sleep
© Abraham Cowley
In vain, thou drowsy God! I thee invoke;
For thou, who dost from fumes arise
