All Poems
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Bruxelles
© Paul Verlaine
Hills and fences hurry by
Blent in greenish-rosy flight,
And the yellow carriage-light
Blurs all to the half-shut eye.
May
© John Shaw Neilson
Shyly the silver-hatted mushrooms make
Soft entrance through,
And undelivered lovers, half awake,
Hear noises in the dew
Words against Lesbia: to Furius and Aurelius
© Gaius Valerius Catullus
Furius and Aurelius, you friends of Catullus,
whether he penetrates farthest India,
Childhood
© Anne Bradstreet
Ah me! conceiv'd in sin, and born in sorrow,
A nothing, here to day, but gone to morrow,
The Childless Father
© William Wordsworth
"UP, Timothy, up with your staff and away!
Not a soul in the village this morning will stay;
The hare has just started from Hamilton's grounds,
And Skiddaw is glad with the cry of the hounds."
Our Bethplace
© William Barnes
How dear's the door a latch do shut,
An' geärden that a hatch do shut,
I Will Put Chaos Into Fourteen Lines
© Edna St. Vincent Millay
I will put Chaos into fourteen lines
And keep him there; and let him thence escape
My Literary Friend
© Henry Lawson
Once I wrote a little poem which I thought was very fine,
And I showed the printers copy to a critic friend of mine,
First he praised the thing a little, then he found a little fault;
The ideas are good, he muttered, but the rhythm seems to halt.
De Quintia Et Sesbia. Ep. 87
© Richard Lovelace
Quintia formosa est multis, mihi candida, longa,
Recta est; haec ego sic singula confiteor:
Tota illud formosa nego: nam multa venustas;
Nulla in tam magno est corpore mica salis.
Lesbia formosa est quae, cum pulcherrima tota est,
Tum omnibus una omneis surripuit veneres.
Lohengrin: Proem
© Emma Lazarus
THE alert and valiant faith that could respond,
Upon life's threshold, to the highest call,
Unquestioning of what might lie beyond,
Courage afield and courtesy in hall,
The Belfry
© Robert Laurence Binyon
Dark is the stair, and humid the old walls
Wherein it winds, on worn stones, up the tower.
Only by loophole chinks at intervals
Pierces the late glow of this August hour.
Before Death (Mrityu-r Agey)
© Jibanananda Das
We who have walked deserted stubble fields on a December evening,
Who have seen over the field's edge a soft river woman scattering
Her fog flowers-they all are like some village girls of old-
We who have seen in darkness the akanda tree, the dhundul plant
Filled with fireflies, the moon standing quietly at the head of
An already harvested field-she has no yearning for that harvest;
Bel m'es can eu vei la brolha
© Bernard de Ventadorn
Ma mort remir, que jauzir
no.n posc ni no.n sui jauzire;
mas eu sui tan bos sofrire
c'atendre cuit per sofrir.
The Rosy Hour
© Thomas Lovell Beddoes
And in that rosy rosy hour,
When bird sang out and scented flower,
Came words to me from heaven above:
"Awake, young heart, awake and love!"
Ode to Ethiopia
© Paul Laurence Dunbar
O Mother Race! to thee I bring
This pledge of faith unwavering,
This tribute to thy glory.
I know the pangs which thou didst feel,
When Slavery crushed thee with its heel,
With thy dear blood all gory.
Sonnet To George Romney, Esq. On His Picture Of Me In Crayons
© William Cowper
Romney, expert infallibly to trace
On chart of canvas, not the form alone
And semblance, but, however faintly shown,
The mind's impression too on every face;
Satan Returning
© John Newton
When Jesus claims the sinner's heart,
Where Satan ruled before;
The evil spirit must depart,
And dares return no more.
Squatting up in Queensland
© Anonymous
Squatting up in Queensland, is a great mistake I guess;
If you ask if I'm a squatter, I can truly answer yes,
For altho' I'm nearly squashed, I hold my station still,
And if another gets it - he will have a bitter pill.
Oh! dear oh! - Now isn't it a go,
After frizzling up in Queensland, like sinners down below.
