All Poems
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Vain Words
© Franklin Pierce Adams
Humble, surely, mine ambition;
It is merely to construct
Some occasion or condition
When I may say "usufruct."
My Wife
© Robert Louis Stevenson
Trusty, dusky, vivid, true,
With eyes of gold and bramble-dew,
Steel-true and blade-straight,
The great artificer
Made my mate.
Two Capitals1910
© Harriet Monroe
White Moscow of the pearly towers.
And golden domes for praise
And chiming hours!
Red Moscow of the Kremlin walls,
And bloody battle ways
And fire-scarred halls!
Boethius, De Consolatione Philosophiae : Liber 2. Metrum 5
© Henry Vaughan
Happy that first white age when we
Lived by the earth's mere charity!
Fall
© Madison Julius Cawein
Sad-hearted spirit of the solitudes,
Who comest through the ruin-wedded woods!
Inconstancy
© Abraham Cowley
FIVE years ago (says Story) I lov'd you,
For which you call me most inconstant now;
February
© Edith Nesbit
THE trees stand brown against the gray,
The shivering gray of field and sky;
The mists wrapt round the dying day
The shroud poor days wear as they die:
Poor day, die soon, who lived in vain,
Who could not bring my Love again!
The Creatures In The Lord's Hands
© John Newton
The water stood like walls of brass,
To let the sons of Israel pass;
And from the rock in rivers burst
At Moses' prayer to quench their thirst.
Ad Kendte Veje
© Holger Drachmann
O hvor hvert Fjed dog er gammeltungt,
Naar Vejen skal trædes tilbage;
Woman To Man
© Wilcox Ella Wheeler
You do but jest, sir, and you jest not well,
How could the hand be enemy of the arm,
Or seed and sod be rivals! How could light
Feel jealousy of heat, plant of the leaf
To The Hummingbird
© Jones Very
I cannot heal thy green gold breast,
Where deep those cruel teeth have prest,
Nor bid thee raise thy ruffled crest,
And seek thy mate,
Who sits alone within thy nest,
Nor sees thy fate.
Out Of Nazareth
© James Whitcomb Riley
"Who can rob thee an thou hast
More than this that thou hast cast
At my feet-- this dust of gold?
Simply this and that, all told!
Hast thou not a treasure of
Such a thing as men call love?"
In Memory Of The Late G. C. Of Montreal
© Rosanna Eleanor Leprohon
The earth was flooded in the amber haze
That renders so lovely our autumn days,
The dying leaves softly fluttered down,
Bright crimson and orange and golden brown,
And the hush of autumn, solemn and still,
Brooded oer valley, plain and hill.
Sonnet Of Motherhood XXVII
© Zora Bernice May Cross
Dearest, as much as I, you breathe in pain,
Breeding yourselfyour very soul from me
By look and sign, soft word and action strong,
And all you longed for in its form regain.
I am a humble haven where we three,
Father and child and mother, make a song.
The Little Native Rose
© Henry Lawson
THERE is a lasting little flower,
That everybody knows,
Yet none has thought to think about
The little Native Rose.
To Laura At The Harpsichord
© Johann Christoph Friedrich Von Schiller
When o'er the chords thy fingers stray,
My spirit leaves its mortal clay,
A statue there I stand;
Thy spell controls e'en life and death,
As when the nerves a living breath
Receive by Love's command! [1]
The Wife Of Asdrubal
© Felicia Dorothea Hemans
Bright in her hand the lifted dagger gleams,
Swift from her children's hearts the life-blood streams;
With frantic laugh she clasps them to the breast
Whose woes and passions soon shall be at rest;
Lifts one appealing, frenzied glance on high,
Then deep 'midst rolling flames is lost to mortal eye.
