All Poems

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3210

As It Is

© Edith Nesbit

If you and I
Had wings to fly -
Great wings like seagulls' wings -
How would we soar
Above the roar
Of loud unneeded things!

Life

© Jones Very

IT is not life upon Thy gifts to live,

But, to grow fixed with deeper roots in Thee;

An Hour

© Henry Van Dyke

You only promised me a single hour:

But in that hour I journeyed through a year

Songs Written to Welsh Airs

© Amelia Opie

How fondly I gaze on the fast falling-leaves,
That mark, as I wander, the summer's decline;
And then I exclaim, while my conscious heart heaves,
"Thus early to droop and to perish be mine!"

So quiet it was in that high, sun-steeped room,
So warm and still, that sometimes with the light
Through the great windows, bright with bottle-panes,
Thered float a chime from clock-jacks out of sight,
Clapping iron mallets on green copper gongs.

The Poems Gift

© Stéphane Mallarme

I bring you the child of an Idumean night!

Black, with pale naked bleeding wings, light

The Tears of the Poplars

© Edith Matilda Thomas

HATH not the dark stream closed above thy head,
With envy of thy light, thou shining one?
Hast thou not, murmuring, made thy dreamless bed
Where blooms the asphodel, far from all sun?
But thouthou dost obtain oblivious ease,
While here we rock and moanthy funeral trees.

Dublin Roads

© Padraic Colum

WHEN you were a lad that lacked a trade,
Oh, many's the thing you'd see on the way
From Kill-o'-the-Grange to Ballybrack,
And from Cabinteely down into Bray,
When you walked these roads the whole of a day.

Wanderlust

© Isabel Ecclestone Mackay

THE highways and the byways, the kind sky folding all,
And never a care to drag me back and never a voice to call;
Only the call of the long, white road to the far horizon's wall.

April Antidotes

© Jessie Pope

IN the nonage of the year,
When anemones appear,
And the buffets of the breeze are soft as silk,
When each sparrow spars and heckles,
I begin to think of freckles,
And of bi-chloride of mercury and milk.

The End Of The Century

© Madison Julius Cawein

There are moments when, as missions,
God reveals to us strange visions;
When, within their separate stations,
We may see the Centuries,
Like revolving constellations
Shaping out Earth's destinies.