All Poems
/ page 467 of 3210 /The Angel-Thief
© Oliver Wendell Holmes
TIME is a thief who leaves his tools behind him;
He comes by night, he vanishes at dawn;
We track his footsteps, but we never find him
Strong locks are broken, massive bolts are drawn,
On A Picture Of John D. Rockefeller
© Edgar Lee Masters
If thou, Columbia, dost from this, thy son--
The condor beak and python eyes--recoil,
Bethink thee of the years that Freedom's soil
Was husbanded by devil-feet which run
The Herald Crane
© Hamlin Garland
Oh! say you so, bold sailor
In the sun-lit deeps of sky!
Dost thou so soon the seed-time tell
In thy imperial cry,
As circling in yon shoreless sea
Thine unseen form goes drifting by?
The Child-Dancers
© Percy MacKaye
A bomb has fallen over Notre Dame:
Germans have burned another Belgian town:
On the Tombs in Westminster Abbey
© Francis Beaumont
MORTALITY, behold and fear!
What a change of flesh is here!
Upon The Horse and His Rider
© John Bunyan
There's one rides very sagely on the road,
Showing that he affects the gravest mode.
Below Her Window
© Robert Fuller Murray
Where she sleeps, no moonlight shines
No pale beam unbidden creeps.
Darkest shade the place enshrines
Where she sleeps.
The Snowing of the Pines
© Thomas Wentworth Higginson
Softer than silence, stiller than still air,
Float down from high pine boughs the slender leaves.
The Comforters
© Dora Sigerson Shorter
When I crept over the hill, broken with tears.
When I crouched down on the grass, dumb in despair,
I heard the soft croon of the wind bend to my ears,
I felt the light kiss of the wind touching my hair.
A Spirit's Return
© Felicia Dorothea Hemans
Thou knewest me not in life's fresh vernal morn -
I would thou hadst! - for then my heart on thine
Had poured a worthier love; now, all o'erworn
By its deep thirst for something too divine,
It hath but fitful music to bestow,
Echoes of harp-strings broken long ago.
Written For My Son
© Mary Barber
When Athens was for Arts and Arms renown'd,
Olympic Wreaths uncommon Merit crown'd.
These slight Distinctions from the Learn'd and Wise,
Convey'd eternal Honour with the Prize:
'Twas this, the gen'rous Love of Fame inspir'd,
And Grecian Breasts with noblest Ardor fir'd.
Songe To Aella, Lorde Of The Castel Of Brystowe Ynne Daies Of Yore
© Thomas Chatterton
To JOHNE LADGATE.
WELL thanne, goode Johne, sythe ytt must needes be soe,
Queen Mab: Part II.
© Percy Bysshe Shelley
If solitude hath ever led thy steps
To the wild ocean's echoing shore,
The Driftwood Gatherers
© Robert Laurence Binyon
Along the deep shelve of the abandoned shore
Bowed, with slow pace and careful eyes that keep
The track they travel, move an aged pair.
The full voice of the Atlantic holds the air
A Dainty Thing's The Villanelle
© William Ernest Henley
A DAINTY thing's the Villanelle,
Sly, musical, a jewel in rhyme,
It serves its purpose passing well.
The Watchman
© Charles Kingsley
'Watchman, what of the night?'
'The stars are out in the sky;
And the merry round moon will be rising soon,
For us to go sailing by.'
A Poem Written By Sir Henry Wotton In His Youth
© Sir Henry Wotton
O Faithless World, & thy more faithless part, a Woman's heart!
The true Shop of variety, where sits nothing but fits