All Poems
/ page 570 of 3210 /
The Bridal Ballad
© Edgar Allan Poe
The ring is on my hand,
And the wreath is on my brow;
Satin and jewels grand
Are all at my command,
And I am happy now.
Hearing A Flute On A Spring Night In Luoyang
© Li Po
From whose home secretly flies the sound of a jade flute?
It's lost amid the spring wind which fills Luoyang city.
In the middle of this nocturne I remember the snapped willow,
What person would not start to think of home!
Song I
© Sara Teasdale
You bound strong sandals on my feet,
You gave me bread and wine,
And sent me under sun and stars,
For all the world was mine.
Christmas
© Edith Nesbit
WITH garlands to grace it, with laughter to greet it,
Christmas is here, holly-red and snow-white,
By The Aurelian Wall
© Bliss William Carman
Who slyly should bestow
The foreign reed-flute they had seen him blow
And finger cunningly,
On one of the dark children standing by,
Then lift his cloak and go.
The Submarine That Sank The "Lusitania"
© Katharine Lee Bates
SPINDRIFT white shall her victims stand
On the ivory quay, untrod
By living feet, when she nears Ghoststrand,
To point her out to God.
A Dramatic Fragment
© Charles Lamb
"Fie upon't!
All men are false, I think. The date of love
Is out, expired, its stories all grown stale,
O'erpast, forgotten, like an antique tale
Of Hero and Leander."
"Give me a roof where Wisdom dwells"
© Alfred Austin
Give me a roof where Wisdom dwells,
Where honeysuckle smiles and smells,
A bleating flock, some lowing kine,
An honest welcome always mine,
A homely draught, a humble meal,
Old Barnard -- A Monkish Tale
© Mary Darby Robinson
OLD BARNARD was still a lusty hind,
Though his age was full fourscore;
Sonnet 3
© Richard Barnfield
The Stoicks thinke, (and they come neare the truth,)
That vertue is the chiefest good of all,
Lines Written In The Highlands After A Visit To Burns's Country
© John Keats
There is a charm in footing slow across a silent plain,
Where patriot battle has been fought, where glory had the gain;
There is a pleasure on the heath where Druids old have been,
Where mantles grey have rustled by and swept the nettles green;
Daphles. An Argive Story
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
But the Queen's host by skilful champions led,
Its powers meanwhile concentred to a head,
Lay, an embattled force with wary eye,
Ready to ward or strike whene'er the cry
Of coming foemen on their ears should fall,
Nigh the huge towers which guard the capital.
Saint Sebastian
© Valery Yaklovich Bryusov
On slow and smoky fire thou burn'st and art consumed,
O thou, my soul!
On slow and smoky fire thou burn'st and art consumed,
With hidden dole.
The Lute-Player
© William Watson
She was a lady great and splendid,
I was a minstrel in her halls.
A warrior like a prince attended
Stayed his steed by the castle walls.
To His Fairest Valentine Mrs. A. L.
© Richard Lovelace
"Come, pretty birds, present your lays,
And learn to chaunt a goddess praise;
Ye wood-nymphs, let your voices be
Employ'd to serve her deity:
And warble forth, ye virgins nine,
Some music to my Valentine.
The Tramp
© Edgar Albert Guest
Eagerly he took my dime,
Then shuffled on his way,
Thick with sin and filth and grime,
But I wondered all that day
How the man had gone astray.
To Linnie
© Abraham Lincoln
A sweet plaintive song did I hear,
And I fancied that she was the singer
May emotions as pure, as that song set a-stir
Be the worst that the future shall bring her.
The Birds Of Cirencester
© Francis Bret Harte
Did I ever tell you, my dears, the way
That the birds of Cisseter--"Cisseter!" eh?
Thomas Starr King
© John Greenleaf Whittier
The great work laid upon his twoscore years
Is done, and well done. If we drop our tears,
