All Poems
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Second Nature
© Edith Nesbit
WHEN I was young how fair the skies,
Such folly of cloud, such blue depths wise,
Such dews of morn, such calms of eve,
So many the lure and the reprieve--
Life seemed a toy to break and mend
And make a charm of in the end.
A Wren's Nest
© William Wordsworth
AMONG the dwellings framed by birds
In field or forest with nice care,
Is none that with the little Wren's
In snugness may compare.
Written At Mycenae
© Richard Monckton Milnes
I saw a weird procession glide along
The vestibule before the
Lion's gate;
A Man of godlike limb and warrior state,
A Parlourmaid
© Lesbia Harford
"I want a parlourmaid."
"Well, let me see
If you were God, what kind of maid she'd be."
"She would be tall,
You love meyou are sure
© Emily Dickinson
I need not startyou're sure
That night will never be
When frightenedhome to Thee I run
To find the windows dark
And no more Dolliemark
Quite none?
Old And Young
© Francis William Bourdillon
LONG ago, on a bright spring day,
I passed a little child at play;
The Better Part
© Matthew Arnold
Long fed on boundless hopes, O race of man,
How angrily thou spurn'st all simpler fare!
Atameros
© John Beevers
The palace with revolving doors was mine
And three of us went up its steps
To the tall room whose walls were made
Of the furred eyes of moths.
The Ghost, the Gallant, the Gael, and the Goblin
© William Schwenck Gilbert
O'er unreclaimed suburban clays
Some years ago were hobblin'
How Like A Winter Hath My Absence Been
© William Shakespeare
How like a winter hath my absence been
From Thee, the pleasure of the fleeting year!
What freezings have I felt; what dark days seen,
What old December's bareness everywhere!
The Writer's Dream
© Henry Lawson
And the last that were born of a noble racewhen the page of the South was fair
The last of the conquered dwelt in peace with the last of the victors there.
He saw their hearts with the authors eyes who had written their ancient lore,
And he saw their lives as hed dreamed of suchah! many a year before.
And Ill write a book of these simple folk ere I to the world return,
And the cold who read shall be kind for theseand the wise who read shall learn.
The Reapers In Autumn
© James Thomson
Soon as the morning trembles o'er the sky,
And unperceived, unfolds the spreading day;
Before the ripen'd field the reapers stand,
In fair array.
As I Watche'd The Ploughman Ploughing
© Walt Whitman
AS I watch'd the ploughman ploughing,
Or the sower sowing in the fields-or the harvester harvesting,
I saw there too, O life and death, your analogies:
(Life, life is the tillage, and Death is the harvest according.)
Srahmandazi
© Sir Henry Newbolt
Deep embowered beside the forest river,
Where the flame of sunset only falls,
Lapped in silence lies the House of Dying,
House of them to whom the twilight calls.
Dead Leaves
© Edward Booth Loughran
When these dead leaves were green, love,
November's skies were blue,
Sonnet XXXVII: The Love-Moon
© Dante Gabriel Rossetti
"When that dead face, bowered in the furthest years,
Which once was all the life years held for thee,
Americanisation
© Gilbert Keith Chesterton
Britannia needs no Boulevards,
No spaces wide and gay:
Her march was through the crooked streets
Along the narrow way.
Nor looks she where, New York's seduction,
The Broadway leadeth to destruction.
Bourke
© Henry Lawson
Save grit and generosity of hearts that broke and healed again
The hottest drought that ever blazed could never parch the hearts of men;
And they were men in spite of all, and they were straight, and they were true,
The hat went round at troubles call, in Ninety-one and Ninety-two.
