All Poems
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Haunted Houses. (Birds Of Passage. Flight The First)
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
All houses wherein men have lived and died
Are haunted houses. Through the open doors
The harmless phantoms on their errands glide,
With feet that make no sound upon the floors.
Die Beredsamkeit
© Gotthold Ephraim Lessing
Freunde, Wasser machet stumm:
Lernet dieses an den Fischen.
In A Glass Of Water before Retiring
© Stephen Vincent Benet
Now the day
Burns away.
Most austere
Night is here
Time for sleep.
Women.
© Robert Crawford
Alas! we women are the fools of you:
You mould us and you mar us we are yours,
And ever have been since the birth of love,
Flowers cherished for a while, soon to be cast
As weeds away; and yet as weeds in the mire
Our fading hues breathe to the last of you.
Exclusion (The soul selects her own society)
© Emily Dickinson
The soul selects her own society,
Then shuts the door;
Gods Acre
© Conrad Aiken
She prods a plantain
Of too ambitious root. That largest yew-tree,
Clutching the hill
Over the Ranges and Into the West
© Henry Lawson
LET OTHERS sing praise of their sea-girted isles,
But give me the bush with its limitless miles;
Then its over the ranges and into the West,
To the scenes of wild boyhood; we love them the best.
The Rivals
© Paul Laurence Dunbar
'TWAS three an' thirty year ago,
I When I was ruther young, you know,
Sonnet To Disappointment
© Helen Maria Williams
PALE disappointment! at thy freezing name
Chill fears in every shiv'ring vein I prove;
The Poor
© Letitia Elizabeth Landon
Few, save the poor, feel for the poor:
The rich know not how hard
It is to be of needful food
And needful rest debarred.
Rimas XXIII
© Gustavo Adolfo Becquer
Por una mirada, un mundo;
Por una sonrisa, un cielo;
Por un beso... iyo no se
Que te diera por un beso!
The Good, Old-Fashioned People
© James Whitcomb Riley
The good, old-fashioned people--
The hale, hard-working people--
The kindly country people
'At Uncle used to know!
Scherzando
© William Ernest Henley
Down through the ancient Strand
The spirit of October, mild and boon
And sauntering, takes his way
This golden end of afternoon,
As though the corn stood yellow in all the land,
And the ripe apples dropped to the harvest-moon.
Ypres
© Robert Laurence Binyon
On the road to Ypres, on the long road,
Marching strong,
We'll sing a song of Ypres, of her glory
And her wrong.
The Return
© Sara Teasdale
I turned the key and opened wide the door
To enter my deserted room again,
My Land.
© Arthur Henry Adams
A NEW land, like a stainless flower set
In the green foliage of the waving sea;
Or like a maiden whose fair heart is free,
Whose honest eyes with no sad tears are wet,
