All Poems
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To A Friend Who Sent Me A Box Of Violets
© Sir Arthur Quiller-Couch
Nay, more than violets
These thoughts of thine, friend!
An Interview With Miles Standish
© James Russell Lowell
I sat one evening in my room,
In that sweet hour of twilight
The Storm Cone
© Rudyard Kipling
This is the midnight-let no star
Delude us-dawn is very far.
This is the tempest long foretold-
Slow to make head but sure to hold
A Prayer For Artemis
© Aeschylus
Though Zeus plan all things right,
Yet is his heart's desire full hard to trace;
Nathless in every place
Brightly it gleameth, e'en in darkest night,
Fraught with black fate to man's speech-gifted race.
Confession
© Charles Baudelaire
Une fois, une seule, aimable et douce femme,
À mon bras votre bras poli
S'appuya (sur le fond ténébreux de mon âme
Ce souvenir n'est point pâli);
Melody To A Scene Of Former Times
© Percy Bysshe Shelley
Art thou indeed forever gone,
Forever, ever, lost to me?
Must this poor bosom beat alone,
Or beat at all, if not for thee?
The Witch's Daughter
© John Greenleaf Whittier
It was the pleasant harvest time,
When cellar-bins are closely stowed,
And garrets bend beneath their load,
Nux Postcoenatica
© Oliver Wendell Holmes
I was sitting with my microscope, upon my parlor rug,
With a very heavy quarto and a very lively bug;
The true bug had been organized with only two antennae,
But the humbug in the copperplate would have them twice as many.
False Weight
© George Moses Horton
If thou art fair, deal, lady, fair,
And let the scales be even;
Forbid the poising beam to rear,
And pull thee down from heaven.
A Harvest Song
© Isabella Valancy Crawford
THE noon was as a crystal bowl
The red wine mantled through;
Around it like a Viking's beard
The red-gold hazes blew,
As tho' he quaffed the ruddy draught
While swift his galley flew.
"And Is It Among Rude Untutored Dales"
© William Wordsworth
AND is it among rude untutored Dales,
There, and there only, that the heart is true?
Humilitie
© George Herbert
I saw the Vertues sitting hand in hand
In sev'rall ranks upon an azure throne,
Passing the Temple
© Wang Wei
Tonight he walks with his light stick,
Stops by the Tiger Streams source,
In The Black Rock Tavern by Judith Slater: American Life in Poetry #36 Ted Kooser, U.S. Poet Laureat
© Ted Kooser
running a crane on an overhead track in the mill.
Eight hours a day moving ingots into rollers.
Sometimes without a break
because of the bother of getting down.
Never had an accident.
Never hurt anyone. He had that much control.
The Hwomestead A-Vell Into Hand
© William Barnes
The house where I wer born an' bred,
Did own his woaken door, John,
Hippo's Hope
© Sheldon Allan Silverstein
There once was a hippo who wanted to fly --
Fly-hi-dee, try-hi-dee, my-hi-dee-ho.
So he sewed him some wings that could flap through the sky --
Sky-hi-dee, fly-hi-dee, why-hi-dee-go.
Lydlinch Bells
© William Barnes
When skies wer peäle wi' twinklèn stars,
An' whislèn aïr a-risèn keen;
