All Poems
/ page 344 of 3210 /
Robin Hood And The Monk
© Andrew Lang
In somer when the shawes be sheyne,
And leves be large and longe,
Hit is full mery in feyre foreste
To here the foulys song.
Out For A Walk
© Friedrich Hölderlin
The margins of the forest are beautiful,
as if painted onto the green slopes.
God Send The Regicide
© Vachel Lindsay
Would that the lying rulers of the world
Were brought to block for tyrannies abhorred.
Formal Problem
© Vernon Scannell
The poet, in his garden, holds his pen
Like a dart between two fingers and a thumb;
The target is unfortunately blurred;
He does not see as clearly as when young,
Or, rather, doubt and nervousness obtrude:
He dare not risk the unreflecting fling.
Love
© Charles Harpur
SHE loves me! From her own bliss-breathing lips
The live confession came, like rich perfume
The Prism
© George MacDonald
A pool of broken sunbeams lay
Upon the passage-floor,
Radiant and rich, profound and gay
As ever diamond bore.
Nature And the Book
© Alfred Austin
I closed the book. The summer shower
In smiling dimples ebbed away,
But still on leaf, and blade, and flower,
The fallen raindrops glistening lay.
The Old House By The Mere
© Madison Julius Cawein
Five rotten gables look upon
Wan rotting roses and rank weeds,
Ginevra
© Percy Bysshe Shelley
THE DIRGE.
Old winter was gone
In his weakness back to the mountains hoar,
And the spring came down
From the planet that hovers upon the shore
The Island Hawk
© Alfred Noyes
Hushed are the whimpering winds on the hill,
Dumb is the shrinking plain,
Satyr V. Verse
© Thomas Parnell
Thou soft Engager of my tender years
Divertive verse now come & ease my cares
Rizpah
© William Cullen Bryant
And he delivered them into the hands of the Gibeonites, and they
hanged them in the hill before the Lord; and they fell all seven
together, and were put to death in the days of the harvest, in the
first days, in the beginning of barley-harvest.
Battle Of Belleau Wood
© Edgar Albert Guest
IT was thick with Prussian troopers, it was foul with German guns;
Every tree that cast a shadow was a sheltering place for Huns.
Death was guarding every roadway, death was watching every field,
And behind each rise of terrain was a rapid-fire concealed
But Uncle Sam's Marines had orders: "Drive the Boche from where they're hid.
For the honor of Old Glory, take the woods!" and so they did.
Measure For Measure
© Sir Arthur Quiller-Couch
By Or Km.
Wake! for the closed Pavilion doors have kept
English Eclogues III - The Funeral
© Robert Southey
The coffin as I past across the lane
Came sudden on my view. It was not here,
When Will It End?
© Rosanna Eleanor Leprohon
O when will it end, this appalling strife,
With its reckless waste of human life,
Its riving of highest, holiest ties,
Its tears of anguish and harrowing sighs,
Its ruined homes from which hope has fled,
Its broken hearts and its countless dead?
Deity
© Madison Julius Cawein
No personal; a God divinely crowned
With gold and raised upon a golden throne
Deep in a golden glory, whence he nods
Man this or that--and little more than man!
Who Would Have Thought?
© George MacDonald
Blow, breath of heaven, on all this poison blow!
And, heart, glow upward to this gracious breath!
Between them, vanish, mist of sin and death,
And let the life of life within me flow!
Love is the green earth, the celestial air,
And music runs like dews and rivers there!
