All Poems
/ page 546 of 3210 /
Haunted Chambers
© Conrad Aiken
The lamp-lit page is turned, the dream forgotten;
The music changes tone, you wake, remember
Deep worlds you lived before, deep worlds hereafter
Of leaf on falling leaf, music on music,
Rain and sorrow and wind and dust and laughter.
The Marseillaise
© John Todhunter
What means this mighty chant, wherein its wail
Of some intolerable woe, grown strong
Against Constancy
© John Wilmot
Tell me no more of constancy,
The frivolous pretense
Of old age, narrow jealousy,
Disease, and want of sense.
Summer
© George MacDonald
Summer, sweet Summer, many-fingered Summer!
We hold thee very dear, as well we may:
A Song
© Daniil Ivanovich Kharms
We shall close our eyes,
O people! O people!
We shall open our eyes,
O warriors! O warriors!
To Mary Shelley
© Percy Bysshe Shelley
THE world is dreary,
And I'm weary
Of wandering on without thee, Mary;
A joy was erewhile
In thy voice and thy smile,
And 'tis gone, when I should be gone too, Mary.
A Sketch
© Dinah Maria Mulock Craik
"Emelie, that fayrer was to seene
Than is the lilye on hys stalke grene.....
Uprose the sun and uprose Emelie."
In Memoriam A. H. H.: Preface
© Alfred Tennyson
Thou seemest human and divine,
The highest, holiest manhood, thou.
Our wills are ours, we know not how,
Our wills are ours, to make them thine.
The Boatman
© Vasily Andreyevich Zhukovsky
Driven by misfortune's whirlwind,
Having neither oar nor rudder,
On Lucretia Borgias Hair
© Walter Savage Landor
BORGIA, thou once wert almost too august
And high for adoration; now thou rt dust;
All that remains of thee these plaits unfold,
Calm hair meandering in pellucid gold.
Blest be thy love, dear Lord,
© John Austin
Blest be thy love, dear Lord,
That taught us this sweet way,
Only to love Thee for Thyself,
And for that love obey.
Found
© Dante Gabriel Rossetti
THERE is a budding morrow in midnight:
So sang our Keats, our English nightingale.
Ishmonie
© Edward Booth Loughran
The traveller tells how, in that ancient clime
Whose mystic monuments and ruins hoar
The Unchosen
© Judson Jerome
I guess I have a deficiency. God never
said boo to me when as a boy I stood
straining in church with muscular endeavor
for the sweet squirt of salvation. I never could
see why He spoke to this or that old lady,
Arcturus
© Sara Teasdale
ARCTURUS brings the spring back
As surely now as when
He rose on eastern islands
For Grecian girls and men;
The Birthday Wreath
© John Greenleaf Whittier
Blossom and greenness, making all
The winter birthday tropical,
And the plain Quaker parlors gay,
Have gone from bracket, stand, and wall;
We saw them fade, and droop, and fall,
And laid them tenderly away.
