All Poems
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To A Brown Girl
© Countee Cullen
What if his glance is bold and free,
His mouth the lash of whips?
So should the eyes of lovers be
And so a lovers lips.
Sonnet XII: My Spotless Love
© Samuel Daniel
My spotless love hovers with white wings
About the temple of the proudest frame,
The Silent Dead
© Lesbia Harford
There's a little boy who lives next door
With hair like you,
Pale, pale hair and a rose-white skin
And his eyes are blue.
The Voice
© Charles Baudelaire
I was the height of a folio, my bed just
backed on the bookcases sombre Babel,
everything, Latin ashes, Greek dust
jumbled together: novel, science, fable.
To Chloe Weeping
© Matthew Prior
See, whilst Thou weep'st, fair Cloe, see
The World in Sympathy with Thee.
Haikai.
© Robert Crawford
Flannel-flowers dancing
To the Dawn on the hill-tops ...
The Vision of Spring!
The Skeleton In Armour
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
"Speak! speak! thou fearful guest!
Who, with thy hollow breast
Prolong the night
© Renee Vivien
Prolong the night, Goddess who sets us aflame!
Hold back from us the golden-sandalled dawn!
Already on the sea the first faint gleam
Of day is coming on.
Bagley Wood
© Lionel Pigot Johnson
Could we but live at will upon this perfect height,
Could we but always keep the passion of this peace,
Could we but face unshamed the look of this pure light,
Could we but win earth's heart, and give desire release:
Then were we all divine, and then were ours by right
These stars, these nightingales, these scents: then shame would cease.
Jeune Fille, Ton Coeur Avec Nous
© André Marie de Chénier
Jeune fille, ton coeur avec nous veut se taire.
Tu fuis, tu ne ris plus; rien ne saurait te plaire.
The Ways Are Green
© William Ernest Henley
The ways are green with the gladdening sheen
Of the young year's fairest daughter.
Under The Rose
© Madison Julius Cawein
He told a story to her,
A story old yet new--
And was it of the Faëry Folk
That dance along the dew?
Last Days Of Alice
© Allen Tate
Alice grown lazy, mammoth but not fat,
Declines upon her lost and twilight age;
Above in the dozing leaves the grinning cat
Quivers forever with his abstract rage:
The Dying Seneca
© Oliver Wendell Holmes
HE died not as the martyr dies,
Wrapped in his living shroud of flame;
He fell not as the warrior falls,
Gasping upon the field of fame;
A gentler passage to the grave,
The murderer's softened fury gave.
Dum Capitolium Scandet
© Ezra Pound
How many will come after me
singing as well as I sing, none better;
Devotion
© Denis Florence MacCarthy
When I wander by the ocean,
When I view its wild commotion,
Then the spirit of devotion
Cometh near;
And it fills my brain and bosom,
Like a fear!
There Will Always Be Something To Do
© Edgar Albert Guest
There will always be something to do, my boy;
There will always be wrongs to right;
