All Poems
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Mont Brevent
© George Santayana
O dweller in the valley, lift thine eyes
To where, above the drift of cloud, the stone
By Word of Mouth
© Rudyard Kipling
Not though you die to-night, O Sweet, and wail,
A spectre at my door,
Shall mortal Fear make Love immortal fail -
I shall but love you more,
Who, from Death's House returning, give me still
One moment's comfort in my matchless ill.
There Was A Rose
© Madison Julius Cawein
There was a rose in Eden once: it grows
On Earth now, sweeter for its rare perfume:
Drunk As Drunk On Turpentine
© Pablo Neruda
Ebrio de trementina y largos besos,
estival, el velero de las rosas dirijo,
torcido hacia la muerte del delgado día,
cimentado en el sólido frenesí marino.
By Callimachus
© William Cowper
At morn we placed on his funeral bier
Young Melanippus; and, at eventide,
Operation
© William Ernest Henley
You are carried in a basket,
Like a carcase from the shambles,
To the theatre, a cockpit
Where they stretch you on a table.
Garibaldi
© John Greenleaf Whittier
In trance and dream of old, God's prophet saw
The casting down of thrones. Thou, watching lone
To The Albanian eagle
© Ndre Mjeda
High amongst the clouds, above the cliffs
Sparkling in perennial snow,
Like lightning, like an arrow,
Soars on sibilant wings
'Midst the peaks and jagged rocks
The eagle in the first rays of dawn.
As Dies The Year
© Alfred Austin
The Old Year knocks at the farmhouse door.
October, come with your matron gaze,
Old Woman With Protea Flowers, Kahalui Airport by Kathleen Flenniken: American Life in Poetry #134 T
© Ted Kooser
When ancient people gathered around the fire at nightfall, I like to think that they told stories, about where each of them had been that day, and what that person had seen in the forest. Those were among our first stories, and we still venture into the world and return to tell others what happened. It's part of community. Here Kathleen Flenniken of Washington tells us about a woman she saw at an airport.
Old Woman With Protea Flowers, Kahalui Airport
The Invasion
© Sir Henry Newbolt
Spring, they say, with his greenery
Northward marches at last,
Mustering thorn and elm;
Breezes rumour him conquering,
Tell how Victory sits
High on his glancing helm.
Jis Sar Ko
© Meer Taqi Meer
jis sar ko garur aj hai yan tajawari ka
kal us pe yahin shor hai phir nauhagari ka
The Brus Book IX
© John Barbour
[The king goes to Inverurie and falls ill]
Now leve we intill the Forest
Good Speech
© Archibald Lampman
Think not, because thine inmost heart means well,
Thou hast the freedom of rude speech: sweet words
Are like the voices of returning birds
Filling the soul with summer, or a bell
That calls the weary and the sick to prayer.
Even as thy thought, so let thy speech be fair.
Hymn
© Charles Baudelaire
To the too-dear, to the too-beautiful,
who fills my heart with clarity,
to the angel, to the immortal idol,
All hail, in immortality!
The True Evangel
© Peter McArthur
BECAUSE that men were deaf, and man to man
I could not speak, but inarticulate
'Gettin' Back'
© Henry Lawson
When we've arrived by boat or rail, and feeling pretty well,
And humped our heavy gladstones to the Great Norsouth Hotel;
And when we've had a wash and brush and changed biled rags for soft
And ate a hearty country meal our spirits go aloft!
(Damn the city!)
In July
© Edward Dowden
WHY do I make no poems? Good my friend
Now is there silence through the summer woods,
Fragment Of A Satire On Satire
© Percy Bysshe Shelley
If gibbets, axes, confiscations, chains,
And racks of subtle torture, if the pains
Of shame, of fiery Hells tempestuous wave,
Seen through the caverns of the shadowy grave,
