All Poems
/ page 389 of 3210 /Under A Flowering Tree
© Robert Laurence Binyon
Under a flowering Tree
I sat with my dearest Love.
Night flowered in stars above
And the heart was a--flower in me.
They Who Prepare My Evening Meal
© Henry David Thoreau
They who prepare my evening meal below
Carelessly hit the kettle as they go
With tongs or shovel,
And ringing round and round,
Out of this hovel
It makes an eastern temple by the sound.
Greenwich Hospital
© William Lisle Bowles
Come to these peaceful seats, and think no more
Of cold, of midnight watchings, or the roar
Sheep-Killer
© Ernest G Moll
But since a farmer needs must have his sleep,
That night I put a bullet in his head,
Gave the world back to God, and went to bed.
Your Honeymoon Will Last
© George Ade
She:
When I settle with my hubby
In our little home,
He must not be wild and clubby,
He must never roam.
Hymn XXII: Behold the Saviour of Mankind
© Charles Wesley
Behold the Saviour of mankind
Nailed to the shameful tree!
How vast the love that him inclined
To bleed and die for thee!
In Obitum Honoratissimi Viri, Rogeri Manwood, Militis, Quaestorii Reginalis Capitalis Bareonis
© Christopher Marlowe
NOCTIVAGI terror, ganeonis triste flagellum,
Et Jovis Alcides, rigido vulturque latroni,
To My Native Land
© Jens Baggesen
Thou spot of earth, where from the breast of woe
My eye first rose, and in the purple glow
Of morning, and the dewy smile of love,
Marked the first gloamings of the Power above:
Shakespeare?
© Robert Crawford
And what think ye of Shakespeare? 'Twas not he
Of Stratford is the lord of England's lyre;
Ay, not the rustic lad, whoe'er it be,
Momentous in his doing and desire.
Titmarshs Carmen Lilliense
© William Makepeace Thackeray
My heart is weary, my peace is gone,
How shall I e'er my woes reveal?
I have no money, I lie in pawn,
A stranger in the town of Lille.
Tale XXI
© George Crabbe
rise;
Not there the wise alone their entrance find,
Imparting useful light to mortals blind;
But, blind themselves, these erring guides hold out
Alluring lights to lead us far about;
Screen'd by such means, here Scandal whets her
The man whose riches satisfy his greed
© Solon
The man whose riches satisfy his greed
Is not more rich for all those heaps and hoards
Than some poor man who has enough to feed
And clothe his corpse with such as God affords.
Psalm CXXXVIII "By the rivers of Babylon."
© Fitz-Greene Halleck
WE sat us down and wept,
Where Babel's waters slept,
And we thought of home and Zion as a long-gone, happy dream;
We hung our harps in air
On the willow boughs, which there,
Gloomy as round a sepulchre, were drooping o'er the stream.
Fragment of Ballad
© Sydney Thompson Dobell
How shall I sing? the thing I crave
To say is speechless as a Lover's trance.
How shall I give to thee
What even now is all so wholly thine
That but by losing thee in me
Or me in thee it never can be mine?
The Zucca
© Percy Bysshe Shelley
VII.
The Heavens had wept upon it, but the Earth
Had crushed it on her maternal breast
The Fugitive Ideal
© William Watson
As some most pure and noble face,
Seen in the thronged and hurrying street,
Sheds o'er the world a sudden grace,
A flying odour sweet,
Then, passing, leaves the cheated sense
Baulked with a phantom excellence;
To William Hayley, Esq. June 29, 1793.
© William Cowper
Dear architect of fine Chateaux in air,
Worthier to stand for ever, if they could,
Than any built of stone, or yet of wood,
For back of royal elephant to bear;
Lazy Harry's
© Anonymous
Oh, we started down from Roto when the sheds had all cut out.
We'd whips and whips of Rhino as we meant to push about,
So we humped our blues serenely and made for Sydney town,
With a three-spot cheque between us, as wanted knocking down.