All Poems
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Poor Johnnie Pope
© Anonymous
Poor Johnnie Pope
Has lost his coat,
But let him never mind it;
When he comes down
To Richmond town,
There he'll be sure to find it.
Coogee
© Henry Kendall
Sing the song of wave-worn Coogee, Coogee in the distance white,
With its jags and points disrupted, gaps and fractures fringed with light;
Old Mother Laidinwool
© Rudyard Kipling
Old Mother Laidinwool had nigh twelve months been dead.
She heard the hops was doing well, an' so popped up her head
For said she: "The lads I've picked with when I was young and fair,
They're bound to be at hopping and I'm bound to meet 'em there!"
Music's Duel
© Richard Crashaw
Now westward Sol had spent the richest beams
Of noon's high glory, when, hard by the streams
Ulster 1912
© Rudyard Kipling
"Their webs shall not become garments, neither shall they cover themselves with their works: their works are works of inquity and the act of violence is in their hands." - Isaiah lix. 6.
De Bell Of St. Michel
© William Henry Drummond
Go 'way, go 'way, don't ring no more, ole bell of Saint Michel,
For if you do, I can't stay here, you know dat very well,
No matter how I close ma ear, I can't shut out de soun',
It rise so high 'bove all de noise of dis beeg Yankee town.
Unto Us A Son Is Given
© Alice Meynell
Given, not lent,
And not withdrawn-once sent -
This Infant of mankind, this One,
Is still the little welcome Son.
My Chinee Cook.
© James Brunton Stephens
THEY who say the bush is dull are not so very far astray,
For this eucalyptic cloisterdom is anything but gay;
Dead Love
© Sara Teasdale
God let me listen to your voice,
And look upon you for a space
And then he took your voice away,
And dropped a veil before your face.
To Kasbek
© Mikhail Lermontov
With winged footsteps now I hasten
Unto the far cold North away,
Kasbek,--thou watchman of the East,
To thee, my farewell greetings say!
Sonnet On The Sonnet
© Lord Alfred Douglas
This is the sonnet, this is all delight
Of every flower that blows in every Spring,
And all desire of every desert place;
This is the joy that fills a cloudy night
When bursting from her misty following,
A perfect moon wins to an empty space.
True Love
© Elizabeth Eleanor Siddal
Farewell, Earl Richard,
Tender and brave;
Kneeling I kiss
The dust from thy grave.
Sierra Madre
© Henry Van Dyke
O mother mountains! billowing far to the snowlands,
Robed in aërial amethyst, silver, and blue,
Why do ye look so proudly down on the lowlands?
What have their groves and gardens to do with you?
The Turn O The Days
© William Barnes
O the wings o' the rook wer a-glitterèn bright,
As he wheel'd on above, in the zun's evenèn light,
The Waiting Head
© Anne Sexton
If I really am walking with ordinary habit
past the same rest home on the same local street
Song
© Madison Julius Cawein
Unto the portal of the House of Song,
Symbols of wrong and emblems of unrest,
And mottoes of despair and envious jest,
And stony masks of scorn and hate belong.
Life's Uncertain Day
© Thomas Love Peacock
The briefest part of life's uncertain day,
Youth's lovely blossom, hastes to swift decay:
While love, wine, song, enhance our gayest mood
Old age creeps on, nor thought, nor understood.
At Magnolia Cemetery
© Henry Timrod
SLEEP sweetly in your humble graves,
Sleep, martyrs of a fallen cause;
Though yet no marble column craves
The pilgrim here to pause.
Report From The Besieged City
© Zbigniew Herbert
I am supposed to be exact but I don't know when the invasion began
two hundred years ago in December in September perhaps yesterday at dawn
everyone here suffers from a loss of the sense of time
