All Poems
/ page 397 of 3210 /J'adore la banlieue avec ses champs en friche
© François Coppée
J'adore la banlieue avec ses champs en friche
Et ses vieux murs lépreux, où quelque ancienne affiche
Me parle de quartiers dès longtemps démolis.
Ô vanité! Le nom du marchand que j'y lis
When You Are Not Surprised
© Conrad Aiken
When you are not surprised, not surprised,
nor leap in imagination from sunlight into shadow
Serenade from The Spanish Student
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
STARS of the summer night!
Far in yon azure deeps,
Hide, hide your golden light!
She sleeps!
My lady sleeps!
Sleeps!
Wisdom.
© Robert Crawford
There are some things in life are very poor,
And some unpriceable: our wisdom is
To know our rubbish and our riches here;
To, as it were, sort out ourselves, and blow
The world's dust off the jewels that we have,
Revealing them.
By The Rosanna--To F.M. Stanzer Thal, Tyrol
© George Meredith
The old grey Alp has caught the cloud,
And the torrent river sings aloud;
Sestet
© Thomas Bailey Aldrich
Wouldst thou know the knightly clash of steel on steel?
Or list the throstle singing loud and clear?
Or walk at twilight by some haunted mere
In Surrey; or in throbbing London feel
Life's pulse at highest-hark, the minster's peal! . . .
Turn but the page, that various world is here!
Hunger And Cold
© James Russell Lowell
Sisters two, all praise to you,
With your faces pinched and blue;
The Corn Song
© John Greenleaf Whittier
We better love the hardy gift
Our rugged vales bestow,
To cheer us when the storm shall drift
Our harvest-fields with snow.
The Farmer's Boy - Winter
© Robert Bloomfield
If now in beaded rows drops deck the spray,
While _Phoebus_ grants a momentary ray,
Let but a cloud's broad shadow intervene,
And stiffen'd into gems the drops are seen;
And down the furrow'd oak's broad southern side
Streams of dissolving rime no longer glide.
Lines On The Fall Of Fyers Near Loch Ness
© Robert Burns
Among the heathy hills and ragged woods
The roaring Fyers pours his mossy floods;
Till full he dashes on the rocky mounds,
Where, thro' a shapeless breach, his stream resounds.
Triumphmay be of several kinds
© Emily Dickinson
Triumphmay be of several kinds
There's Triumph in the Room
When that Old ImperatorDeath
By Faith
Marco Bozzaris
© Fitz-Greene Halleck
At midnight, in his guarded tent,
The Turk was dreaming of the hour
The Lighthouse
© Katharine Lee Bates
IN seas far north, day after day
We leaned upon the rail, engrossed
The Love Sonnets Of Proteus. Part III: Gods And False Gods: LXXVIII
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
COLD COMFORT
There is no comfort underneath the sun.
Youth turns to age; riches are quickly spent;
Pride breeds us pain, our pleasures punishment.
What Flavour?
© Franklin Pierce Adams
Worthy of flowers and syrups sweet,
O fountain of Bandusian onyx,
Tomorrow shall a goatling's bleat
Mix with the sizz of thy carbonics.
Evangeline: Part The Second. V.
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
All was ended now, the hope, and the fear, and the sorrow,
All the aching of heart, the restless, unsatisfied longing,
All the dull, deep pain, and constant anguish of patience!
And, as she pressed once more the lifeless head to her bosom,
Meekly she bowed her own, and murmured, "Father, I thank thee!"
The Gray Brother
© Sir Walter Scott
The Pope he was saying the high, high mass,
All on Saint Peter's day,
With the power, to him given, by the saints of heaven,
To wash men's sins away.
Written At Dr. Mead's House In Ormond--Street, To Mrs. Mead.
© Mary Barber
Books, Pictures, Statues, here we find,
And each excelling in their Kind.
Mead's Taste in ev'ry Thing we view;
But chiefly in his Choice of You.
The Decameron
© Aldous Huxley
Suddenly from the gate rises up a cry,
Hideous broken laughter, scarce human in sound;
Gaunt clawed hands, thrust through the bars despairingly,
Clutch fast at the scented air, while on the ground
Lie the poor plague-stricken carrions, who have found
Strength to crawl forth and curse the sunshine and die.