All Poems
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The Backsheesh Sergeant
© Skeyhill Tom
'E's a sneakin' smoogin' blighter, an' 'e'll never make a fighter, Unless it's 'gainst a wounded chap like me;'E's a cringin', crawlin' 'ound, an' a coward, I'll be bound,An' I don't know why 'e crossed the bloomin' sea
The Wish of the Weary Woman
© Sigourney Lydia Huntley
A form there was, still spared by timeTill the slow century fill'd its prime;Stretch'd on its bed, with half-closed eyeIt mark'd uncertain shades flit by;Nor scarce the varied world of soundTo the seal'd ear admittance found;While the worn brow, in wrinkles dark,Seem'd like the gnarl'd oak's roughen'd bark
Indian Names
© Sigourney Lydia Huntley
"How can the red men be forgotten, while so many of our states and territories, bays, lakes and rivers, are indelibly stamped by names of their giving?"
I must not teaze my Mother
© Sigourney Lydia Huntley
I must not teaze my Mother; For she is very kind,And every thingshe says to me, I must directly mind:For when I was a baby
Difference of Color
© Sigourney Lydia Huntley
God gave to Afric's sons A brow of sable dye,And spread the country of their birth Beneath a burning sky,And with a cheek of olive, made The little Hindoo child,And darkly stain'd the forest-tribes That roam our western wild
Death of an Infant
© Sigourney Lydia Huntley
Death found strange beauty on that polish'd brow,And dash'd it out
Eleventh Song
© Sir Philip Sidney
"Who is it that this dark nightUnderneath my window plaineth?"It is one who from thy sightBeing, ah, exil'd, disdainethEvery other vulgar light.
Astrophel and Stella: Sixt Song
© Sir Philip Sidney
O you that heare this voice,O you that see this face,Say whether of the choiceDeserues the former place:Feare not to judge this bate,For it is void of hate
Astrophel and Stella: Seuenth Song
© Sir Philip Sidney
Whose senses in so euill consort, their step-dame Nature laies,That rauishing delight in them most sweete tunes do not raise;Or if they doe delight therein, yet are so closed with wit,As with sententious lips to set a little vaine on it:O let them heare these sacred tunes, and learne in wonders schooles,To be in things past bounds of wit fooles, if they be not fooles
Trouv?e
© Elizabeth Bishop
Oh, why should a hen
have been run over
on West 4th Street
in the middle of summer?
This is the house of Bedlam
© Elizabeth Bishop
This is the time
of the tragic man
that lies in the house of Bedlam.
Astrophel and Stella: Fift Song
© Sir Philip Sidney
While fauour fed my hope, delight with hope was brought,Thought waited on delight, and speech did follow thought:Then grew my tongue and pen records vnto thy glorie:I thought all words were lost, that were not spent of thee:I thought each place was darke but where thy lights would be,And all eares worse then deafe, that heard not out thy storie
Astrophel and Stella: Eleuenth Song
© Sir Philip Sidney
Who is it that this darke night,Vnderneath my window playneth?It is one who from thy sight,Being (ah) exild, disdaynethEuery other vulgar light
Astrophel and Stella: Eight Song
© Sir Philip Sidney
In a groue most rich of shade,Where birds wanton musicke made,May then yong his pide weedes showing,New perfumed with flowers fresh growing, Astrophel with Stella sweete,Did for mutuall comfort meet,Both within themselues oppressed,But each in the other blessed
Astrophel and Stella: 108
© Sir Philip Sidney
When sorrow (vsing mine owne fiers might)Melts downe his lead into my boyling brest,Through that darke fornace to my heart opprest,There shines a joy from thee my only light;But soone as thought of thee breeds my delight,And my young soule flutters to thee his nest,Most rude dispaire my daily vnbidden guest,Clips streight my wings, streight wraps me in his night,And makes me then bow downe my head, and say,Ah what does Phœbus gold that wretch auaile,Whom iron doores do keepe from vse of day?So strangely (alas) thy workes in me preuaile,That in my woes for thee thou art my joy,And in my joyes for thee my onely annoy
Astrophel and Stella: 107
© Sir Philip Sidney
Stella since thou so right a Princesse artOf all the powers which life bestowes on me,That ere by them ought vndertaken be,They first resort vnto that soueraigne part;Sweete for a while giue respite to my hart,Which pants as though it still should leape to thee:And on my thoughts giue my LieftenancyTo this great cause, which needs both vse and art
Astrophel and Stella: 106
© Sir Philip Sidney
O absent presence Stella is not here;False flattering hope, that with so faire a face,Bare me in hand, that in this Orphane place,Stella, I say my Stella, should appeare
Astrophel and Stella: 105
© Sir Philip Sidney
Vnhappie sight, and hath she vanisht bySo neere, in so good time so free a place?Dead glasse doest thou thy object so imbrace,As what my heart still sees thou canst not spie?I sweare by her I loue and lacke, that IWas not in fault, who bent thy dazling raceOnely vnto the heau'n of Stellas face,Counting but dust what in the way did lie
