All Poems
/ page 442 of 3210 /
Out Of Sight, Out Of Mind
© Barnabe Googe
The oftener seen, the more I lust,
The more I lust, the more I smart,
A Fable For Critics
© James Russell Lowell
'Why, nothing of consequence, save this attack
On my friend there, behind, by some pitiful hack,
Who thinks every national author a poor one,
That isn't a copy of something that's foreign,
And assaults the American Dick--'
The Hanging Of Black Kudjo
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
WELL, Maussa! if you wants to heer, I'll tell you 'bout um 'true.
Doh de berry taut ob dat bad time is fit to tun me blue;
A sort ob brimstone blue on black, wid jist a stare o' wite,
As when dem cussed Tory come fur wuck deir hate dat nite!
To The Right Honourable The Lady Sarah Cowper.
© Mary Barber
Let me the Honour soon obtain,
For which I long have hop'd in vain;
Since I, alas! am now confin'd,
Your Visit would be doubly kind.
Mater Dolorosa
© William Barnes
I'D a dream to-night
As I fell asleep,
O! the touching sight
Makes me still to weep:
The Secret Foe
© Katharine Tynan
When now to battle he shall ride,
The bravest of the brave,
Joan the Maid be by his side
And Michael, quick to save.
A Better Thing
© George MacDonald
I took it for a bird of prey that soared
High over ocean, battled mount, and plain;
'Twas but a bird-moth, which with limp horns gored
The invisibly obstructing window-pane!
Die Beiden
© Hugo von Hofmannsthal
Sie trug den Becher in der Hand -
Ihr Kinn und Mund glich seinem Rand -,
The Judgment Of Paris
© Thomas Parnell
Where waving Pines the brows of Ida shade,
The swain young Paris half supinely laid,
Saw the loose Flocks thro' shrubs unnumber'd rove
And Piping call'd them to the gladded grove.
'Twas there he met the Message of the skies,
That he the Judge of Beauty deal the prize.
Merlin
© John Le Gay Brereton
O Merlin, how the magic from your eyes
Bids the world flame about your idle feet,
Publicationis the Auction
© Emily Dickinson
Publicationis the Auction
Of the Mind of Man
Povertybe justifying
For so foul a thing
Sonnet. "Beside a well-reap'd field at Eventide"
© Frances Anne Kemble
Beside a well-reap'd field at Eventide,
One laid him down to rest who'd wandered far,
Sonnet XIV
© Fernando António Nogueira Pessoa
We are born at sunset and we die ere morn,
And the whole darkness of the world we know,
The Earth-Mother
© Frank Dalby Davison
COMETH a voice:My children, hear;
From the crowded street and the close-packed mart
And Wilt Thou Weep When I Am Low?
© George Gordon Byron
And wilt thou weep when I am low?
Sweet lady! speak those words again:
Yet if they grieve thee, say not so--
I would not give that bosom pain.
