All Poems
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The Spagnoletto. Act III
© Emma Lazarus
RIBERA (laying aside his brush).
So! I am weary. Luca, what 's o'clock?
The Spider
© Ann Taylor
"OH, look at that great ugly spider!" said Ann;
And screaming, she brush'd it away with her fan;
"'Tis a frightful black creature as ever can be,
I wish that it would not come crawling on me. "
Seeing Off Meng Haoran For Guangling At Yellow Crane Tower
© Li Po
My old friend's said goodbye to the west, here at Yellow Crane Tower,
In the third month's cloud of willow blossoms, he's going down to Yangzhou.
The lonely sail is a distant shadow, on the edge of a blue emptiness,
All I see is the Yangtze River flow to the far horizon.
On My Thirty-Third Birthday, January 22, 1821
© George Gordon Byron
Through life's dull road, so dim and dirty,
I have dragg'd to three-and-thirty.
What have these years left to me?
Nothing--except thirty-three.
Daphne
© George Meredith
Musing on the fate of Daphne,
Many feelings urged my breast,
For the God so keen desiring,
And the Nymph so deep distrest.
Like Him Who Great reports Of Tilth Rejects
© Charles Harpur
Like him who great reports of tilth rejects,
Because his own is a most barren field,
Is he who mans divinity suspects,
Because his own soul doth so little yield.
Dingley And Brent
© Jonathan Swift
Dingley and Brent,
Wherever they went,
Ne'er minded a word that was spoken;
Whatever was said,
They ne'er troubled their head,
But laugh'd at their own silly joking.
The Future
© John Gould Fletcher
After ten thousand centuries have gone,
Man will ascend the last long pass to know
That all the summits which he saw at dawn
Are buried deep in everlasting snow.
The Butterfly
© Arun Kolatkar
There is no story behind it.
It is split like a second.
It hinges around itself.
A Roman's Chamber
© Percy Bysshe Shelley
I.
In the cave which wild weeds cover
Wait for thine aethereal lover;
For the pallid moon is waning,
O'er the spiral cypress hanging
And the moon no cloud is staining.
A Niagara Landscape
© Archibald Lampman
Heavy with haze that merges and melts free
Into the measureless depth on either hand,
The Seventeenth Book Of Homer's Odysseys
© George Chapman
…
Such speech they chang'd; when in the yard there lay
There Are No Gods!
© Edgar Albert Guest
There are no gods that bring to youth
The rich rewards that stalwarts claim;
Edgehill Fight
© Rudyard Kipling
Naked and grey the Cotswolds stand
Beneath the summer sun,
And the stubble fields on either hand
Where Sour and Avon run.
There is no change in the patient land
That has bred us every one.
Song of Marion's Men
© William Cullen Bryant
Our band is few, but true and tried,
Our leader frank and bold;
The Unknown Beloved
© John Hall Wheelock
I dreamed I passed a doorway
Where, for a sign of death,
White ribbons one was binding
About a flowery wreath.
To The Night
© Ugo Foscolo
Maybe because you always have appeared
The image of that fatal rest to me,
O night! You come towards me so dear!
Escorted by the summer clouds with glee
And by the gentle breezes full of cheer,
