All Poems
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Sonnet XIV
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
Rise from your gory ashes stern and pale,
Ye martyred thousands! and with dreadful ire,
Out At Pelletier's
© Edgar Albert Guest
OUT at Pelletier's where the blooded pigeons fly,
An' the tony Shetland ponies romp and play,
On Early Trains
© Boris Pasternak
This winter I was outside Moscow,
But when the time for work came round,
Through the blizzard, biting frost and snow,
I made the journey into town.
Light
© Swami Vivekananda
I look behind and after
And find that all is right,
In my deepest sorrows
There is a soul of light.
To One in Bedlam
© Ernest Christopher Dowson
With delicate, mad hands, behind his sordid bars,
Surely he hath his posies, which they tear and twine;
Those scentless wisps of straw , that miserably line
His strait, caged universe, whereat the dull world stares,
Her Picture
© Thomas Moore
Go then, if she, whose shade thou art,
No more will let thee soothe my pain;
Yet, tell her, it has cost this heart
Some pangs, to give thee back again.
Bring Flowers
© Felicia Dorothea Hemans
Bring flowers, young flowers, for the festal board,
To wreathe the cup ere the wine is pour'd;
Bring flowers! they are springing in wood and vale,
Their breath floats out on the southern gale,
And the touch of the sunbeam hath waked the rose,
To deck the hall where the bright wine flows.
An Invocation to Poesy
© Charles Mackay
Stay with me, Poesy! playmate of childhood!
Friend of my manhood! delight of my youth!
Roamer with me over valley and wildwood,
Searching for loveliness, groping for Truth.
Love Came to Flora Asking for a Flower
© Toru Dutt
Love came to Flora asking for a flower
That would of flowers be undisputed queen,
A Christmas Hymn
© Alfred Domett
IT was the calm and silent night!
Seven hundred years and fifty-three
The Master Theme
© France Preseren
A Slovene wreath your poet has entwined;
A record of my pain and of your praise,
Since from my heart's deep roots have sprung these lays,
These tear-stained flowers of a poet's mind.
Tasso Dying
© Konstantin Nikolaevich Batiushkov
But it's too late! I stand before the fatal borne.
To wild applause I won't step on Capitoline,
And glory's laurels on my feeble head
Won't sweeten the bard's frightful lot.
Ballade
© Antoinette du Ligier de la Garde Deshoulières
À caution tous amants sont sujets:
Cette maxime en ma tête est écrite.
Tale XX
© George Crabbe
flown:
All swept away, to be perceived no more,
Like idle structures on the sandy shore,
The chance amusement of the playful boy,
That the rude billows in their rage destroy.
Poor George confess'd, though loth the truth to
An Die Dichter
© Joseph Freiherr Von Eichendorff
Wo treues Wollen, redlich Streben
Und rechten Sinn der Rechte spürt,
Song Of The American Indian
© William Lisle Bowles
Stranger, stay, nor wish to climb
The heights of yonder hills sublime;
