All Poems
/ page 511 of 3210 /The Despairing Shepherd
© Matthew Prior
Alexis shun'd his Fellow Swains,
Their rural Sports, and jocund Strains:
So Cruel Prison
© Henry Howard
So cruel prison how could betide, alas,
As proud Windsor? Where I in lust and joy
The Lady Of La Garaye - Part I
© Caroline Norton
So, till the day when over Dinan's walls
The Autumn sunshine of my story falls;
And the guests bidden, gather for the chase,
And the smile brightens on the lovely face
That greets them in succession as they come
Into that high and hospitable home.
The Faun's Sweetheart
© Margaret Widdemer
We met by the Wood of Doom,
Day gone and the dusk come after . . .
The Ubique
© Rudyard Kipling
There is a word you often see, pronounce it as you may -
'You bike,' 'you bikwe,' 'ubbikwe' - alludin' to R.A.
It serves 'Orse, Field, an' Garrison as motto for a crest,
An' when you've found out all it means I'll tell you 'alf the rest.
In The Country English Translation
© Rabindranath Tagore
Here I get him closest to my heart -
As close is the earth beneath my feet
The Spaniards' Graves
© Celia Thaxter
O sailors, did sweet eyes look after you
The day you sailed away from sunny Spain?
Bright eyes that followed fading ship and crew,
Melting in tender rain?
Limerick:There was an Old Person of Anerley
© Edward Lear
There was an Old Person of Anerley,
Whose conduct was strange and unmannerly;
He rushed down the Strand
With a pig in each hand,
But returned in the evening to Anerley.
Mountain Moss
© Henry Kendall
IT LIES amongst the sleeping stones,
Far down the hidden mountain glade;
And past its brink the torrent moans
For ever in a dreamy shade.
Haunted Streets
© Mathilde Blind
The face of faces we again behold
That lit our life when life was very fair,
And leaps our heart toward eyes and mouth and hair:
Oblivious of the undying love grown cold,
Or body sheeted in the churchyard mould,
We stretch out yearning hands and grasp-the air.
Sonnet: Before He Went
© John Keats
BEFORE he went to feed with owls and bats
Nebuchadnezzar had an ugly dream,
Trois quatrains
© Charles Cros
Au milieu du sang, au milieu du feu,
Votre âme limpide, ainsi quun ciel bleu,
Répand sa rosée en fraîches paroles
Sur nos curs troublés, mourantes corolles.
Forest Moods
© Archibald Lampman
There is singing of birds in the deep wet woods,
In the heart of the listening solitudes,
Pewees, and thrushes, and sparrows, not few,
And all the notes of their throats are true.
The Neglected Wife
© John Kenyon
They tell me that my face is fair,
That sunny smiles are on my cheek
On A Symphony Of Beethoven
© Frances Anne Kemble
Terrible music, whose strange utterance
Seemed like the spell of some dread conscious trance;
One Hundred and Three
© Henry Lawson
They shut a man in the four-by-eight, with a six-inch slit for air,
Twenty-three hours of the twenty-four, to brood on his virtues there.
And the dead stone walls and the iron door close in as an iron band
On eyes that followed the distant haze far out on the level land.
Sonnet III.
© Samuel Taylor Coleridge
Thou gentle Look, that didst my soul beguile,
Why hast thou left me? Still in some fond dream
Revisit my sad heart, auspicious Smile!
As falls on closing flowers the lunar beam:
Definition of Poetry
© Boris Pasternak
It's a whistle blown ripe in a trice,
It's the cracking of ice in a gale,
It's a night that turns green leaves to ice,
It's a duel of two nightingales.