All Poems

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Sonnet 11: In Truth, Oh Love

© Sir Philip Sidney

In truth, oh Love, with what a boyish kind
Thou doest proceed in thy most serious ways:
That when the heav'n to thee his best displays,
Yet of that best thou leav'st the best behind.

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Shelley's Vision

© Herman Melville

Wandering late by morning seas
  When my heart with pain was low--
Hate the censor pelted me--
  Deject I saw my shadow go.

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Sakuntala

© Holger Drachmann

I could not sleep for longing,

a flower-wind

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Elegy Of Fortinbras

© Zbigniew Herbert


Anyhow you had to perish Hamlet you were not for life
you believed in crystal notions not in human clay
always twitching as if asleep you hunted chimeras
wolfishly you crunched the air only to vomit
you knew no human thing you did not know even how to breathe

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Sonnet II. To ******

© John Keats

Had I a man's fair form, then might my sighs
  Be echoed swiftly through that ivory shell
  Thine ear, and find thy gentle heart; so well
Would passion arm me for the enterprize:

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Soul's Birth

© Sara Teasdale

When you were born, beloved, was your soul

New made by God to match your body's flower,

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The Idyll Of The Standing Stone

© Madison Julius Cawein

The teasel and the horsemint spread

The hillside as with sunset, sown

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Home 3

© Edward Thomas

Often I had gone this way before
But now it seemed I never could be
And never had been anywhere else;
'Twas home; one nationality
We had, I and the birds that sang,
One memory.

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The Love Sonnets Of Proteus. Part III: Gods And False Gods: LXXIII

© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt

TO ONE TO WHOM HE HAD BEEN UNJUST
If I was angry once that you refused
The bread I asked and offered me a stone,
Deeming the rights of bounty thus abused

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To George Herbert,

© John Donne

SENT HIM WITH ONE OF MY SEALS OF THE

ANCHOR AND CHRIST.

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Laundry by Ruth Moose: American Life in Poetry #105 Ted Kooser, U.S. Poet Laureate 2004-2006

© Ted Kooser

I've talked often in this column about how poetry can hold a mirror up to life, and I'm especially fond of poems that hold those mirrors up to our most ordinary activities, showing them at their best and brightest. Here Ruth Moose hangs out some laundry and, in an instant, an everyday chore that might have seemed to us to be quite plain is fresh and lovely.


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The Stalling Of Q.H.F.

© Franklin Pierce Adams

Horace: Episode 14

"Mollis inertia cur tantam diffuderit imis"

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The Broken Doll

© Charles Lamb

An infant is a selfish sprite;

But what of that? the sweet delight

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On the Prodigal

© Richard Crashaw

Tell me, bright boy, tell me, my golden lad,
Whither away so frolic ?  why so glad ?
What all thy wealth in council ? all thy state ?
Are husks so dear ?  troth 'tis a mighty rate.

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The Science Club

© Robert Fuller Murray

Hurrah for the Science Club!
  Join it, ye fourth year men;
Join it, thou smooth-cheeked scrub,
  Whose years scarce number ten

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The Convert's Love

© Thomas Parnell

Blessed Light of saints on high
Who fill the mansions of the sky,
Sure defence, whose mercy still
Preserves thy subjects here from ill,
O my Jesus! make me know
How to pay the thanks I owe.

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On The Morning Of Christ’s Nativity. Compos'd 1629

© John Milton

I.
This is the month, and this the happy morn, 
Wherein the Son of Heaven’s eternal King, 
Of wedded maid and Virgin Mother born, 

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Isla Mujeres

© William Matthews

The shoal we saw from the boat was fish;

it parted as I dove through, and formed

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Sonnet XLII: When Winter Snows

© Samuel Daniel

When Winter snows upon thy golden hairs,

And frost of age hath nipt thy flowers near,

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Sonet

© Mark Alexander Boyd

FRA bank to bank, fra wood to wood I rin,
  Ourhailit with my feeble fantasie;
  Like til a leaf that fallis from a tree,
Or til a reed ourblawin with the win.