All Poems

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3210

YOU think he sings a gladsome song!
Ah, well, he sings! but only see
How oft on glossy neck and breast
His bright head droops despondingly;
Or note the restless, eager bird
When a free minstrel's voice is heard.

Tir Nan Og

© Isabel Ecclestone Mackay

THE breeze blows out from the land and it seeks the sea,
O and O! that my sail were set and away--
Fast and free on its wings would my sailing be
To the west: to the Tir Nan Og, where the blessed stay!

Last Letter to his Wife

© Rene Daumal

I am dead because I lack desire,

I lack desire because I think I possess.

They Can Only Drag You Down

© Henry Lawson

Leader, poet, singer, artist, who have struggled long and won,
Though the climbing is behind you, now the battle has begun,
Shut your ears unto the empty parrot phrases of the town,
Shun the hand-grips of your rivals, they can only drag you down.

Work, Neighbor, Work!

© Louisa May Alcott

"Work, neighbor, work!
Do not stop to play;
Wander far and wide,
Gather all you may.

The Computation

© John Donne

For the first twenty years since yesterday

I scarce believed thou couldst be gone away;

Dawn In Summer

© James Thomson

When now no more th' alternate twins are fired,

And Cancer reddens with the solar blaze,

Young Love

© Sara Teasdale

I cannot heed the words they say,
The lights grow far away and dim,
Amid the laughing men and maids
My eyes unbidden seek for him.

Epilogue

© Herman Melville

Yea, ape and angel, strife and old debate--
The harps of heaven and dreary gongs of hell;
Science the feud can only aggravate--
No umpire she betwixt the chimes and knell:
The running battle of the star and clod
Shall run forever--if there be no God.

My Wifes Second Husband

© Henry Lawson

THE WORLD goes round, old fellow,

And still Im in the swim,

The Toad

© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt

Then also was it that that child with the stone,
He who now tells this story, from his hands
Let the flag drop. A voice had cried to him
Too loud for denial: ``Fool. Be merciful.''

Snow

© Helge Rode

There is nothing in the world thats as silent as snow
when gently through air its decending,
muffles each step you take,
hushes, shushes makes
quiet the voices that the air are rending.

_Like His Mother Used To Make

"Uncle Jake's Place," St. Jo, Mo., 1874

"I was born in Indiany," says a stranger, lank and slim,

"My teacher wasn't half as nice as yours seems to be"

© Roald Dahl

"My teacher wasn't half as nice as yours seems to be.
His name was Mister Unsworth and he taught us history.
And when you didn't know a date he'd get you by the ear
And start to twist while you sat there quite paralysed with fear.