All Poems
/ page 408 of 3210 /
The Woodmans Daughter
© Coventry Kersey Dighton Patmore
In Gerald's Cottage by the hill,
Old Gerald and his child,
Upon His Sister-in-law, Mistress Elizabeth Herrick
© Robert Herrick
First, for effusions due unto the dead,
My solemn vows have here accomplished;
Next, how I love thee, that my grief must tell,
Wherein thou liv'st for ever.-Dear, farewell!
The Given Heart
© Abraham Cowley
I wonder what those lovers mean, who say
They have giv'n their hearts away.
Some good kind lover tell me how;
For mine is but a torment to me now.
Night Song At Amalfi
© Sara Teasdale
I asked the heaven of stars
What I should give my love -
It answered me with silence,
Silence above.
The Sycophantic Fox And The Gullible Raven
© Guy Wetmore Carryl
A raven sat upon a tree,
And not a word he spoke, for
His beak contained a piece of Brie.
Or, maybe it was Roquefort.
We'll make it any kind you please -
At all events it was a cheese.
To A Lady Playing The Cithern
© James Russell Lowell
So dreamy-soft the notes, so far away
They seem to fall, the horns of Oberon
Art Maxims
© William Watson
Often ornateness
Goes with greatness;
Oftener felicity
Comes of simplicity.
Sream Travel
© John Kenyon
Who hath not longed, by converse fired or book,
To break him sudden from his own home-nook,
The Roman Rose-Seller
© Isabella Valancy Crawford
Not from Paestum come my roses; Patrons, see
My flowers are Roman-blown; their nectaries
The Hills Of Youth
© Alfred Noyes
Once, on the far blue hills,
Alone with the pine and the cloud, in those high still places;
Written On The Day Of My Aunt's Funeral
© Charles Lamb
Thou too art dead, ---! very kind
Hast thou been to me in my childish days,
Days Pass: Men Pass
© Stephen Vincent Benet
WHEN, like all liberal girls and boys,
We too get rid of sight
The juggler with his painted toys
The elf and her delight
Death of Ben Hall
© Anonymous
Come all Australia's sons to me -
A hero has been slain
And cowardly butchered in his sleep
Upon the Lachlan Plain.
Dies Irae.
© Robert Crawford
The last great Day it may be near,
Or Man may pass ere it comes here.
There may be nothing but weeds and flowers
Over the Earth in her dying hours;
Seasonal Cycle - Chapter 06 - Spring
© Kalidasa
"Oh, dear, with the just unfolded tender leaflets of Mango trees as his incisive arrows, and with shining strings of honeybees as his bowstring, the assailant named Vasanta came very nigh, to afflict the hearts of those that are fully engaged in affairs of lovemaking…
"Oh, dear, in Vasanta, Spring, trees are with flowers and waters are with lotuses, hence the breezes are agreeably fragrant with the fragrance of those flowers, thereby the eventides are comfortable and even the daytimes are pleasant with those fragrant breezes, thereby the women are with concupiscence, thus everything is highly pleasing…
Elegy for an Old Boxer by James McKean: American Life in Poetry #80 Ted Kooser, U.S. Poet Laureate 2
© Ted Kooser
One of poetry's traditional public services is the presentation of elegies in honor of the dead. Here James McKean remembers a colorful friend and neighbor.
Rondeau III
© Geoffrey Chaucer
Syn I fro love escaped am so fat,
I nere thinke to ben in his prison lene;
Syn I am fre, I count hym not a bene.
Assumption
© Madison Julius Cawein
A mile of moonlight and the whispering wood:
A mile of shadow and the odorous lane:
One large, white star above the solitude,
Like one sweet wish: and, laughter after pain,
Wild-roses wistful in a web of rain.
