All Poems
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Narrara Creek
© Henry Kendall
From the rainy hill-heads, where, in starts and in spasms,
Leaps wild the white torrent from chasms to chasms
Behind The Arras
© Bliss William Carman
I hardly know which room I care for best;
This fronting west,
With the strange hills in view,
Where the great sun goes,where I may go too,
When my lease is through,
What Man Is There of You?
© George MacDonald
The homely words how often read!
How seldom fully known!
"Which father of you, asked for bread,
Would give his son a stone?"
In Search Of Cinderella
© Sheldon Allan Silverstein
From dusk to dawn,
From town to town,
Without a single clue,
I seek the tender, slender foot
Healfast, Healfast, Ye Hero Wounds
© Louisa May Alcott
'"Healfast, healfast, ye hero wounds;
O knight, be quickly strong!
Beloved strife
For fame and life,
Oh, tarry not too long!"'
To The Author Of A Sonnet, Beginning, '"Sad Is My Verse," You Say, "And Yet No Tear"'
© George Gordon Byron
Thy verse is 'sad' enough, no doubt:
A devilish deal more sad than witty!
Why we should weep I can't find out,
Unless for thee we weep in pity.
Three Songs To The Same Tune
© William Butler Yeats
I
GRANDFATHER sang it under the gallows:
" Hear, gentlemen, ladies, and all mankind:
Money is good and a girl might be better.
The Malaytook the Pearl
© Emily Dickinson
The Malaytook the Pearl
NotIthe Earl
Ifeared the Seatoo much
Unsanctifiedto touch
Grook About Faith, Love, etc.
© Piet Hein
She gave me hope
she gave me love,
with bounty unalloyed.
But what she had of faith,
alas,
she gave to Freud.
Idyll IV. The Herdsmen
© Theocritus
BATTUS.
Look at that heifer! sure there's naught, save bare bones, left of her.
Pray, does she browse on dewdrops, as doth the grasshopper?
Moesta et Errabunda (Grieving and Wandering)
© Charles Baudelaire
Dis-moi ton coeur parfois s'envole-t-il, Agathe,
Loin du noir océan de l'immonde cité
Vers un autre océan où la splendeur éclate,
Bleu, clair, profond, ainsi que la virginité?
Dis-moi, ton coeur parfois s'envole-t-il, Agathe?
Mutability - II.
© Percy Bysshe Shelley
I.
The flower that smiles to-day
To-morrow dies;
All that we wish to stay
A Short Poem Written At The Moment When A Rising River Looked Like A Rolling Ocean
© Du Fu
I was stubborn by nature and addicted to perfect lines,
fought to the death to find words that startle.
Now in old age my poems flow out freely, the way
flowers and birds forget deep sorrow in spring.
To Rudyard Kipling
© Bliss William Carman
What need have you of praising? Could I find
Some lonely poet no one praises yet,
On A Tuft Of Grass
© Emma Lazarus
WEAK, slender blades of tender green,
With little fragrance, little sheen,
What maketh ye so dear to all?
Nor bud, nor flower, nor fruit have ye,
So tiny, it can only be
'Mongst fairies ye are counted tall.
