All Poems
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Mother Nature
© George MacDonald
Beautiful mother is busy all day,
So busy she neither can sing nor say;
But lovely thoughts, in a ceaseless flow,
Through her eyes, and her ears, and her bosom go-
Motion, sight, and sound, and scent,
Weaving a royal, rich content.
Limerick: There Once Was an Old Monk of Basing
© William Cosmo Monkhouse
There once was an old monk of Basing,
Whose salads were something amazing;
But he told his confessor
That Nebuchadnezzar
Had given him hints upon grazing.
Italy : 26. The Campagna Of Florence
© Samuel Rogers
'Tis morning. Let us wander through the fields,
Where Cimabue found a shepherd-boy
Tracing his idle fancies on the ground;
And let us from the top of Fiesole,
To The Authoress Of "Aurora Leigh"
© Sydney Thompson Dobell
Were Shakspeare born a twin, his lunar twin
(Not of the golden but the silver bow)
The Flowers
© Rudyard Kipling
To our private taste, there is always something a little exotic,
almost artificial, in songs which, under an English aspect and dress,
are yet so manifestly the product of other skies. They affect us
like translations; the very fauna and flora are alien, remote;
"That Little Dog"
© James Whitcomb Riley
"That little dog 'ud scratch at that door
And go on a-whinin' two hours before
Rejected
© Lord Alfred Douglas
Alas ! I have lost my God,
My beautiful God Apollo.
Wherever his footsteps trod
My feet were wont to follow.
Sonnet 4
© Richard Barnfield
Two stars there are in one faire firmament
(Of some intitled Ganymedes sweet face),
Daniel Dwithen, The Wise Chap
© William Barnes
Dan Dwithen wer the chap to show
His naïghbours mwore than they did know,
On Guido's Aurora
© Mathilde Blind
And on the Clouds a many-tinted band
Of Hours dance round their Leader, grave or gay
As glowing near or in his wake they sway;
While poised above the sun-awakened land
The Morning Star, fair herald of the day,
Hovers, a Cupid, back-blown torch in hand.
The Blue Nap
© William Matthews
I slept "like a stone," or like that vast
stone-shaped building, the planetarium.
No dreams I can remember:
the dark unbroken blue
on which the stars will take
their places, like bright sheep
The Autumn Crocus
© Robert Laurence Binyon
In the high woods that crest our hills,
Upon a steep, rough slope of forest ground,
Where few flowers grow, sweet blooms to--day I found
Of the Autumn Crocus, blowing pale and fair.
Dim falls the sunlight there;
And a mild fragrance the lone thicket fills.
Janiveer in March
© Henry Cuyler Bunner
I would not have you so kindly,
Thus early in friendships year
A little too gently, blindly,
You let me near.
Limerick: There was an Old Man of Madras
© Edward Lear
There was an Old Man of Madras,
Who rode on a cream-coloured ass;
But the length of its ears,
So promoted his fears,
That it killed that Old Man of Madras.
Patty of the Vale
© John Clare
"A weedling child on lonely lea
My evening rambles chanced to see;
And much the weedling tempted me
To crop its tender flower;
La Terre Est Bleue
© Paul Eluard
La terre est bleue comme une orange
Jamais une erreur les mots ne mentent pas
Desire
© Ada Cambridge
Bright eyes, sweet lips, with many fevers fill
The young blood, running wildly, as it must;
Metamorphoses: Book The Tenth
© Ovid
The End of the Tenth Book.
Translated into English verse under the direction of
Sir Samuel Garth by John Dryden, Alexander Pope, Joseph Addison,
William Congreve and other eminent hands
A Ballad Of The Mulberry Road
© Ezra Pound
Her earrings are made of pearl,
Her underskirt is of green pattern-silk,
Her overskirt is the same silk dyed in purple,
And when men going by look on Rafu
They set down their burdens,
They stand and twirl their moustaches.
