All Poems
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Having To Live in the Country
© Patrick Kavanagh
Back once again in wild, wet Monaghan
Exiled from thought and feeling,
El Desdichado
© Gerard de Nerval
I am the shadowy - the widowed - sadly mute,
At ruined tower still the Prince of Aquitaine:
My single star is dead - my constellated lute
Now bears the sable sun of melancholy pain.
The Vision Of Piers Plowman - Part 17
© William Langland
"I am Spes, a spie,' quod he, "and spire after a knyght
That took me a maundement upon the mount of Synay
Deceit
© James Baker
Is this poison running through my veins?
Or is it the trail of a flame,
Engulfing my fury at your treachery
Which needn't be boiled or braised?
Woak Hill
© William Barnes
When sycamore leaves wer a-spreaden
Green-ruddy in hedges,
Bezide the red doust o' the ridges,
A-dried at Woak Hill;
Tuscany
© Victoria Mary Sackville-West
Cisterns and stones; the fig-tree in the wall
Casts down her shadow, ashen as her boughs,
The Higher Law
© Christopher Pearse Cranch
Man was not made for forms, but forms for man,
And there are times when law itself must bend
The Dead Ship Of Harpswell
© John Greenleaf Whittier
What flecks the outer gray beyond
The sundown's golden trail?
Written for my Son ... at his First Putting on Breeches
© Mary Barber
WHAT is it our mamma's bewitches,
To plague us little boys with breeches ?
To Mrs. Newton
© William Cowper
A noble theme demands a noble verse,
In such I thank you for your fine oysters.
Ode To Peace
© James Beattie
I. 1.
Peace, heaven-descended maid! whose powerful voice
From ancient darkness call'd the morn;
And hush'd of jarring elements the noise,
A Fairy Hunt
© Francis Ledwidge
Who would hear the fairy horn
Calling all the hounds of Finn
Must be in a lark's nest born
When the moon is very thin.
The Statue of Our Queen
© Henry Lawson
Then if youd have us loyal bide
As we have loyal been,
Great Parkes! for love of England, hide
The Statue of our Queen.
Traveller's Song
© George MacDonald
Bands of dark and bands of light
Lie athwart the homeward way;
Now we cross a belt of Night,
Now a strip of shining Day!
Maha-Bharata, The Epic Of Ancient India - Book XI - Sraddha - (Funeral Rites)
© Romesh Chunder Dutt
From their royal brow and bosom gem and jewel cast aside,
Loose their robes and loose their tresses, quenched their haughty queenly
pride!
The Disciple
© George MacDonald
The times are changed, and gone the day
When the high heavenly land,
Though unbeheld, quite near them lay,
And men could understand.
