All Poems

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3210

Upon The Barren Fig-Tree In God's Vineyard

© John Bunyan

What, barren here! in this so good a soil?

The sight of this doth make God's heart recoil

Ecrit en 1827

© Victor Marie Hugo

Je suis triste quand je vois l'homme.
Le vrai décroît dans les esprits.
L'ombre qui jadis noya Rome
Commence à submerger Paris.

, for String Quartet by Amy Lowell">Stravinsky's Three Pieces "Grotesques", for String Quartet

© Amy Lowell

First Movement

Thin-voiced, nasal pipes

Hymn To Love

© Robert Herrick

I will confess
With cheerfulness,
Love is a thing so likes me,
That, let her lay
On me all day,
I'll kiss the hand that strikes me.

The Woman Who Came Behind Him In The Crowd

© George MacDonald

Near him she stole, rank after rank;
She feared approach too loud;
She touched his garment's hem, and shrank
Back in the sheltering crowd.

When I was but a little lad, not more than two or three,
I noticed in a general way my dad was proud of me.
He liked the little ways I had, the simple things I said;
Sometimes he gave me words of praise, sometimes he stroked my head;
And when I'd done a thing worth while, the thought that made me glad
Was always that I'd done my best, and that would please my dad.

You Should at Times Go Out

© Elizabeth Daryush

You should at times go out
from where the faithful kneel,
visit the slums of doubt
and feel what the lost feel;

Palinodia

© Charles Kingsley

Ye mountains, on whose torrent-furrowed slopes,
And bare and silent brows uplift to heaven,
I envied oft the soul which fills your wastes
Of pure and stern sublime, and still expanse
Unbroken by the petty incidents
Of noisy life: Oh hear me once again!

Neere

© André Marie de Chénier

Mais telle qu'à sa mort, pour la dernière fois,
Un beau cygne soupire, et de sa douce voix,
De sa voix qui bientôt lui doit être ravie,
Chante, avant de partir, ses adieux à la vie,
Ainsi, les yeux remplis de langueur et de mort,
Pâle, elle ouvrit sa bouche en un dernier effort:

Lied

© Gotthold Ephraim Lessing

Ehret, Brueder, meine Schoene,

Ehrt die gallische Helene!

The Coming Of The Ship Chapter I

© Khalil Gibran

Only another breath will I breathe in this still air, only another loving look cast backward,
Then I shall stand among you, a seafarer among seafarers.
And you, vast sea, sleepless mother,
Who alone are peace and freedom to the river and the stream,
Only another winding will this stream make, only another murmur in this glade,
And then shall I come to you, a boundless drop to a boundless ocean.

The Garden Of Saint Rose

© Bliss William Carman

THIS is a holy refuge,
The garden of Saint Rose,
A fragrant altar to that peace
The world no longer knows.

Italy : 28. An Interview

© Samuel Rogers

Pleasure, that comes unlooked-for, is thrice-welcome;
And, if it stir the heart, if aught be there,
That may hereafter in a thoughtful hour
Wake but a sigh, 'tis treasured up among

Fragment XII

But when thou returnedst from war,
how peaceful was thy brow! Thy face
was like the sun after rain; like the
moon in the silence of night; calm as
the breast of the lake when the loud
wind is laid.

The Two Women

Lo! very fair is she who knows the ways
Of joy: in pleasure's mocking wisdom old,
The eyes that might be cold to flattery, kind;
The hair that might be grey with knowledge, gold.

The Education of a Poet by Leslie Monsour: American Life in Poetry #61 Ted Kooser, U.S. Poet Laureat

© Ted Kooser

Everywhere I travel I meet people who want to write poetry but worry that what they write won't be "any good." No one can judge the worth of a poem before it's been written, and setting high standards for yourself can keep you from writing. And if you don't write you'll miss out on the pleasure of making something from words, of seeing your thoughts on a page. Here Leslie Monsour offers a concise snapshot of a self-censoring poet.