All Poems
/ page 400 of 3210 /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.
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.
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
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:
Soul's Birth
© Sara Teasdale
When you were born, beloved, was your soul
New made by God to match your body's flower,
The Idyll Of The Standing Stone
© Madison Julius Cawein
The teasel and the horsemint spread
The hillside as with sunset, sown
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.
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
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.
The Stalling Of Q.H.F.
© Franklin Pierce Adams
Horace: Episode 14
"Mollis inertia cur tantam diffuderit imis"
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.
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
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.
On The Morning Of Christs Nativity. Compos'd 1629
© John Milton
I.
This is the month, and this the happy morn,
Wherein the Son of Heavens eternal King,
Of wedded maid and Virgin Mother born,
Isla Mujeres
© William Matthews
The shoal we saw from the boat was fish;
it parted as I dove through, and formed
Sonnet XLII: When Winter Snows
© Samuel Daniel
When Winter snows upon thy golden hairs,
And frost of age hath nipt thy flowers near,
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.