All Poems
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In the Garden the Chrysanthemums Were Dying...
© Kostas Karyotakis
In the garden the chrysanthemums were dying
like desires when you came. Calmly
you laughed, like little white flowers.
Silent, I made a sweetest song
out of the darkness deep within me
and the petals sing it up above you.
"I hoped, that with the brave and strong..."
© Anne Brontë
I hoped, that with the brave and strong,
My portioned task might lie;
To toil amid the busy throng,
With purpose pure and high.
A. D. Nineteen Hundred
© Madison Julius Cawein
War and Disaster, Famine and Pestilence,
Vaunt-couriers of the Century that comes,
To Mrs. Frances--Arabella Kelly.
© Mary Barber
To Day, as at my Glass I stood,
To set my Head--cloaths, and my Hood;
I saw my grizzled Locks with Dread,
And call'd to mind the Gorgon's Head.
The Borough. Letter XVII: The Hospital And
© George Crabbe
Govenors
AN ardent spirit dwells with Christian love,
The Railway Station
© Archibald Lampman
The darkness brings no quiet here, the light
No waking: ever on my blinded brain
Ossian's Hymn to the Sun
© John Logan
O Thou whose beams the sea-gift earth array,
King of the sky, and father of the day!
A Sonnet Occasioned by the Bad Weather Which Hindered the Sports at New-Market in January, 1616
© William Henry Drummond
The earth ore-covered with a sheet of snow,
Refuses food to fowl, to bird, and beast;
The chilling cold lets every thing to grow,
And surfeits cattle with a starving feast.
Curs'd be that love and mought continue short,
Which kills all creatures, and doth spoil our sport.
Watching The Crows
© Henry Lawson
A BUSHMAN got lost in a scrub in the North,
And all the long morning the searchers went forth.
They swore at the rain that had washed out the tracks
And left not a trace for the eyes of the blacks;
But, trusting the signs that the blackfellow knows,
A quiet old darkey stood watching the crows.
The Rose And The Bee
© Sara Teasdale
IF I were a bee and you were a rose,
Would you let me in when the gray wind blows?
Would you hold your petals wide apart,
Would you let me in to find your heart,
If you were a rose?
A Query
© Edgar Albert Guest
I wonder have you ever known
Or heard of such a thing
As paperhangers in the house
Who didn't try to sing?
Bitter For Sweet
© Christina Georgina Rossetti
Summer is gone with all its roses,
Its sun and perfumes and sweet flowers,
Its warm air and refreshing showers:
And even Autumn closes.
Yaddo : The Grand Manor
© Sylvia Plath
Woodsmoke and a distant loudspeaker
Filter into this clear
Air, and blur.
To The Queen
© Alfred Tennyson
O loyal to the royal in thyself,
And loyal to thy land, as this to thee-
Elegy XII. His Recantation
© William Shenstone
No more the Muse obtrudes her thin disguise,
No more with awkward fallacy complains
How every fervour from my bosom flies,
And Reason in her lonesome palace reigns.
To A Cape Ann Schooner
© John Greenleaf Whittier
Luck to the craft that bears this name of mine,
Good fortune follow with her golden spoon
