All Poems
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The Army of Death
© Charles Hamilton Sorley
When you see millions of the mouthless dead
Across your dreams in pale battalions go,
Our Bog Is Dood
© Stevie Smith
Our Bog is dood, our Bog is dood,
They lisped in accents mild,
But when I asked them to explain
They grew a little wild.
How do you know your Bog is dood
My darling little child?
Jubilate Agno (excerpt)
© Christopher Smart
For I will consider my Cat Jeoffry.
For he is the servant of the Living God duly and daily serving him.
Weirdos
© Sasha Skenderija
Deep and unreachable in their darknesses,
capriciously childish and tender
when we write to each other,
while we talk about one of us
who is not around.
Sonnet XXXI: With How Sad Steps, O Moon
© Sir Philip Sidney
With how sad steps, O Moon, thou climb'st the skies!
How silently, and with how wan a face!
Sir Philip Sidney - Astrophel and Stella: XXIII
© Sir Philip Sidney
The curious wits, seeing dull pensiveness
Bewray itself in my long-settl'd eyes,
Astrophel and Stella: XXXIX
© Sir Philip Sidney
Come Sleep! O Sleep, the certain knot of peace,
The baiting-place of wit, the balm of woe,
Astrophel and Stella: XXXIII
© Sir Philip Sidney
I might!--unhappy word--O me, I might,
And then would not, or could not, see my bliss;
Astrophel and Stella: XX
© Sir Philip Sidney
Fly, fly, my friends, I have my death wound, fly!
See there that boy, that murd'ring boy, I say,
Astrophel and Stella: XV
© Sir Philip Sidney
You that do search for every purling spring
Which from the ribs of old Parnassus flows,
Astrophel and Stella: XLI
© Sir Philip Sidney
Having this day my horse, my hand, my lance
Guided so well that I obtain'd the prize,
Astrophel and Stella: XCII
© Sir Philip Sidney
Be your words made, good sir, of Indian ware,
That you allow me them by so small rate?
Astrophel and Stella: LXXI
© Sir Philip Sidney
Who will in fairest book of nature know
How virtue may best lodg'd in beauty be,
Astrophel and Stella: LXIV
© Sir Philip Sidney
No more, my dear, no more these counsels try;
Oh, give my passions leave to run their race;
Astrophel and Stella: III
© Sir Philip Sidney
Let dainty wits cry on the sisters nine,
That, bravely mask'd, their fancies may be told;
Astrophel and Stella VII: WhenNature Made her Chief Work
© Sir Philip Sidney
When Nature made her chief work, Stella's eyes,
In colour black why wrapt she beams so bright?
Astrophel and Stella LXXXIV: HIGHWAY
© Sir Philip Sidney
Highway, since you my chief Parnassus be,
And that my Muse, to some ears not unsweet,
Astrophel and Stella
© Sir Philip Sidney
Doubt you to whom my Muse these notes entendeth,
Which now my breast, surcharg'd, to musick lendeth!
To you, to you, all song of praise is due,
Only in you my song begins and endeth.
Written among the Euganean Hills North Italy
© Percy Bysshe Shelley
MANY a green isle needs must be
In the deep wide sea of Misery,
