All Poems

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3210

"Now, while the rear-guard"

© Paul Hamilton Hayne

NOW, while the rear-guard of the flying year,
Rugged December on the season's verge
Marshals his pale days to the mournful dirge
Of muffled winds in far-off forests drear,

Orlando Furioso Canto 8

© Ludovico Ariosto

ARGUMENT

Rogero flies; Astolpho with the rest,

Twenty-One Love Poems XVIII

© Adrienne Rich

Afskeden I Bamyan

© Bernhard Severin Ingemann

Tre Dage var jeg atter i Bamyan Gæst;

Een Ridder kun mig fulgte, og det var John Præst.

The Hunter's Vision

© William Cullen Bryant

Upon a rock that, high and sheer,
Rose from the mountain's breast,
A weary hunter of the deer
Had sat him down to rest,
And bared to the soft summer air
His hot red brow and sweaty hair.

The Plea Of The Midsummer Fairies

© Thomas Hood

I
'Twas in that mellow season of the year
When the hot sun singes the yellow leaves
Till they be gold,and with a broader sphere

To Charles Walker

© Adam Lindsay Gordon

WHEREAS ! L. Gordon having gone away

By virtue of the law we here decree

The Choice of Valentines

© Thomas Nashe

Pardon sweete flower of matchless Poetrie,

And fairest bud the red rose euer bare ;

Sleep

© Thomas Bailey Aldrich

When to oft sleep we give ourselves away,

And in a dream as in a fairy bark

When The Minister Calls

© Edgar Albert Guest

My Paw says that it used to be,

Whenever the minister came for tea,

Unshackled Thoughts On Chivalry, Romance, Adventure, Etc.

© Franklin Pierce Adams

Yesterday afternoon, while I was walking on Worth Street,

A gust of wind blew my hat off.

The Two Friends

I HAVE two friendstwo glorious friendstwo better could not be,

And every night when midnight tolls they meet to laugh with me.

A Frightful Release

A BAG which was left and not only taken but turned away was not found

Gold painted jars - wines worth a thousand.

© Li Po

Jade carved dishes - food costing more.

I throw the chopsticks down,

Sabbath, My Love

Six slaves the weekdays are; I share
With them a round of toil and care,
Yet light the burdens seem, I bear
For your sweet sake, Sabbath, my love!

Indeed, it will soon be over, I shall be done
With the querulous drill, the forceps, the clove-smelling cotton.
I can go forth into fresher air, into sun,
This narrow anguish forgotten.