All Poems

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The True Sportsman

© William Henry Ogilvie

The real ones, the right ones, the straight ones and the true,

The pukka, peerless sportsmen-their numbers are but few;

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Clerk Saunders

© Andrew Lang

Clerk Saunders and may Margaret
Walked ower yon garden green;
And sad and heavy was the love
That fell thir twa between.

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Work.

© Robert Crawford

For thyself work, not for another, so
'Tis possible; else all thy worth is his
Whose maybe paltry payment scarce serves to
The base sufficing of thy bed and board:

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Clara Morris (Written for a Benefit Given Mrs. Morris)

© Wilcox Ella Wheeler

The Radiant Ruler of Mystic Regions

Where souls of artists are fitted for birth,

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In The Forest

© Charles Sangster

There is no sadness here. Oh, that my heart

Were calm and peaceful as these dreamy groves!

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Prologue

© William Ernest Henley

Something is dead . . .

The grace of sunset solitudes, the march

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Fulgur

© Victor Marie Hugo

L'océan me disait : Ô poëte, homme juste,
J'ai parfois comme toi cette surprise auguste
Qu'il me descend des cieux une immense rougeur ;
Et je suis traversé tout à coup, ô songeur,

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Olney Hymn 33: Seeking The Beloved

© William Cowper

To those who love the Lord I speak;
Is my Beloved near?
The Bridegroom of my soul I seek,
Oh! when will He appear?

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Death Of Little Boys

© Allen Tate

When little boys grown patient at last, weary,
Surrender their eyes immeasurably to the night,
The event will rage terrific as the sea;
Their bodies fill a crumbling room with light.

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A Connaught Man (For Hugh Maguire)

© Katharine Tynan

Lord, when he shall come home from war,
  Give him no pastures green,
But a wet wind and a soft wind
  With reek of turf between.

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Birthplace Revisited

© Gregory Corso

I stand in the dark light in the dark

street

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Alla Musa

© Ugo Foscolo

Pur tu copia versavi alma di canto
Su le mie labbra un tempo, Aonia Diva,
Quando de' miei fiorenti anni fuggiva
La stagion prima, e dietro erale intanto

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Ghosts

© Edith Nesbit

YES--kiss my forehead where the pain

Is grinding outwards from my brain!

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Italian Scenery

© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Night rests in beauty on Mont Alto.
Beneath its shade the beauteous Arno sleeps
In vallombrosa's bosom, and dark trees
Bend with a calm and quiet shadow down
Upon the beauty of that silent river.

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What The Chimney Sang

© Francis Bret Harte

Over the chimney the night-wind sang
And chanted a melody no one knew;
And the Woman stopped, as her babe she tossed,
And thought of the one she had long since lost,
And said, as her teardrops back she forced,
"I hate the wind in the chimney."

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We lose—because we win

© Emily Dickinson

We lose—because we win—
Gamblers—recollecting which
Toss their dice again!

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Jesus, Lord Of Heaven Above

© Anna Laetitia Waring

Jesus, Lord of Heaven above,
Earth beneath is all Thy own
In the depths of Heavenly love
Let my human heart be sown.

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Sweetheart, Sigh No More

© Thomas Bailey Aldrich

It was with doubt and trembling
  I whispered in her ear.
  Go, take her answer, bird-on-bough,
  That all the world may hear--
  _Sweetheart, sigh no more_!

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Across The Pampas

© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt

Dost thou remember, oh, dost thou remember,
Here as we sit at home and take our rest,
How we went out one morning on a venture
In the West?

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Bonie Lesley

© Robert Burns

  The Deil he couldna scaith thee,
 Or aught that wad belang thee;
  He'd look into thy bonnie face
 And say, 'I canna wrang thee!'