All Poems
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A Plantation Bacchanal
© James Weldon Johnson
W'en ole Mister Sun gits tiah'd a-hangin'
High up in de sky;
W'en der ain't no thunder and light'nin' a-bangin',
An' de crap's done all laid by;
A Night Attack
© Leon Gellert
Be still. The bleeding night is in suspense
Of watchful agony and coloured thought,
The Name
© Caroline Norton
THY name was once the magic spell, by which my thoughts were bound,
And burning dreams of light and love were wakened by that sound;
My heart beat quick when stranger tongues, with idle praise or blame,
Awoke its deepest thrill of life, to tremble at that name.
Kennack Sands
© Robert Laurence Binyon
On Kennack Sands the sun
Shines, and the fresh wind blows,
Moulding pale banks anew,
Where the sea--holly grows.
The Old-Fashioned Cooks
© Edgar Albert Guest
Poets have sung of the old-fashioned glories
The old-fashioned pictures that hung on the wall,
Drinking in the Mountains
© Li Po
Mountain flowers open in our faces.
You and I are triply lost in wine.
Im drunk, my friend, sleepy. Rise and go.
With your dawn lute, return, if you wish, and stay.
Hiawatha's Photographing
© Lewis Carroll
From his shoulder Hiawatha
Took the camera of rosewood,
Made of sliding, folding rosewood;
Neatly put it all together.
In its case it lay compactly,
Folded into nearly nothing;
Dreaming Of Li Bai (2)
© Du Fu
One thousand autumns, ten thousand years of fame,
are nothing after death.
The Woods Of The West
© Herbert Bashford
Oh, woods of the west, leafy woods that I love.
Where through the long days I have heard
Madonna Of The Evening Flowers
© Amy Lowell
Then I see you,
Standing under a spire of pale blue larkspur,
With a basket of roses on your arm.
You are cool, like silver,
And you smile.
I think the Canterbury bells are playing little tunes.
'The Aeneid of Virgil: Book 6
© Publius Vergilius Maro
HE said, and wept; then spread his sails before
The winds, and reachd at length the Cumæan shore:
Good Counsel to a Young Maid
© Thomas Carew
GAZE not on thy beauty's pride,
Tender maid, in the false tide
That from lovers' eyes doth slide.
Let thy faithful crystal show
How thy colours come and go :
Beauty takes a foil from woe.
Shaemus
© Conrad Aiken
We will go no more to Shaemus, at the Nip,
for sly innuendo and an Oporto Flip,
the rough but tender voice, the wide-mouthed grin,
the steady-unsteady hand that poured the gin:
King Bibler's Army
© Henry Clay Work
It was ten years ago when the belle of the village
Gave here her hand to the young millionaire,
To A Lady, Who Invited The Author Into The Country.
© Mary Barber
I grieve your Brother has the Gout;
Tho' he's so stoically stout,
I've heard him mourn his Loss of Pain,
And wish it in his Feet again.
What Woe poor Mortals must endure,
When Anguish is their only Cure!
The Borough. Letter I
© George Crabbe
"DESCRIBE the Borough"--though our idle tribe
May love description, can we so describe,
To An Autograph-Hunter
© George MacDonald
Seek not my name-it doth no virtue bear;
Seek, seek thine own primeval name to find-
The name God called when thy ideal fair
Arose in deeps of the eternal mind.
