All Poems
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Hannibal's Oath
© Letitia Elizabeth Landon
AND the night was dark and calm,
There was not a breath of air,
The leaves of the grove were still,
As the presence of death were there;
Dirty Jim
© Jane Taylor
THERE was one little Jim,
'Tis reported of him,
And must be to his lasting disgrace,
That he never was seen
With hands at all clean,
Nor yet ever clean was his face. . . .
The Song Of Songs
© Madison Julius Cawein
I HEARD a Spirit singing as, beyond the morning winging,
Its radiant form went swinging like a star:
In its song prophetic voices mixed their sounds with trumpet-noises,
As when, loud, the World rejoices after war.
Duerme Tranquilo With Translation
© Alfonsina Storni
Dijiste la palabra que enamora
A mis oídos. Ya olvidaste. Bueno.
Duerme tranquilo. Debe estar sereno
Y hermoso el rostro tuyo a toda hora.
The Light of the Sun
© Kabir
THE light of the sun, the moon, and the stars shines bright:
The melody of love swells forth, and the rhythm of love's detachment beats the time.
Day and night, the chorus of music fills the heavens; and Kabîr says
"My Beloved One gleams like the lightning flash in the sky."
Spring MCMXL
© David Gascoyne
London Bridge is falling down, Rome's burnt and Babylon
The Great is now but dust; yet still Spring must
Motherhood
© Mathilde Blind
Yea, shall she not rejoice, shall not her frame
Thrill with a mystic rapture! At this birth,
The soul now kindled by her vital flame
May it not prove a gift of priceless worth?
Some saviour of his kind whose starry fame
Shall bring a brightness to the darkened earth.
On The Death Of The Bishop Of Ely. Anno Aet. 17. (Translated From Milton)
© William Cowper
My lids with grief were tumid yet,
And still my sullied cheek was wet
Address
© Francis Bret Harte
(OPENING OF THE CALIFORNIA THEATRE, SAN FRANCISCO, JANUARY 19, 1870)
Brief words, when actions wait, are well:
Rhymed Plea For Tolerance - Dialogue I
© John Kenyon
Yet the heart vents still more indignant blame,
Where Lawgivers their sullen codes proclaim,
And idly would constrain the creed within,
As if Belief were Crime, and ToleranceSin.
Romance De La Luna, Luna
© Federico Garcia Lorca
Huye luna, luna, luna,
que ya siento sus caballos.
Níno, déjame, no pises
mi blancor almidonado.
The Bank Clerk
© Edgar Albert Guest
I'D LIKE to be a bank clerk, and sit inside a cage,
I'd like to take and hoard away the toiler's weekly wage;
I 'd like to sit behind a drawer with gold and greenbacks lined,
I 'd like to read the writing on the checks rich men have signed,
It must be nice to shut up shop at 3 and cease to fret,
And then I wish that I could have the holidays they get.
How Little Red Riding Hood Came To Be Eaten
© Guy Wetmore Carryl
The Moral: There's nothing much glummer
Than children whose talents appall:
One much prefers those who are dumber,
But as for the paragons small,
If a swallow cannot make a summer
It can bring on a summary fall!
To-Night
© Edward Thomas
Harry, you know at night
The larks in Castle Alley
Sing from the attic's height
As if the electric light
Were the true sun above a summer valley:
Whistle, don't knock, to-night.
Book Of Suleika - In Thousand Form
© Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
IN thousand forms mayst thou attempt surprise,
Yet, all-beloved-one, straight know I thee;
The Gourd
© John Newton
As once for Jonah, so the Lord
To soothe and cheer my mournful hours,
Prepared for me a pleasing gourd,
Cool was its shade, and sweet its flow'rs.
Il Ponte Vecchio Di Firenze
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Gaddi mi fece; il Ponte Vecchio sono;
Cinquecent' anni giá sull' Arno pianto
The Fog
© Harry Kemp
The fog fell: lamps were filled and lit;
They glimmered in mid-day, -
And, step by step, men went abroad
Into a world all grey.
Wordsworth
© James Kenneth Stephen
Two voices are there: one is of the deep;
It learns the storm cloud's thunderous melody,
Now roars, now murmurs with the changing sea,
Now birdlike pipes, now closes soft in sleep;
Grandpa Vogt’s—1959 by Ben Vogt : American Life in Poetry #247 Ted Kooser, U.S. Poet Lau
© Ted Kooser
Family photographs, how much they do capture in all their elbow-to-elbow awkwardness. In this poem, Ben Vogt of Nebraska describes a color snapshot of a Christmas dinner, the family, impatient to tuck in, arrayed along the laden table. I especially like the description of the turkey.
Grandpa Vogt’s-1959
The food is on the table. Turkey tanned
