Art poems
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On The Tomb Of A Priestess Of Artemis
© Sappho
Voiceless I speak, and from the tomb reply
Unto Æthopia, Leto's child, was I
Vowed by the daughter of Hermocleides,
Who was the son of Saonaïades.
O virgin queen, unto my prayer incline,
Bless him and cast thy blessing on our line.
The Emulation
© Sarah Fyge
Say, Tyrant Custom, why must we obey
The impositions of thy haughty Sway;
Don Juan: Canto The Seventh
© George Gordon Byron
O Love! O Glory! what are ye who fly
Around us ever, rarely to alight?
Ode I: The Remonstrance Of Shakespeare
© Mark Akenside
If, yet regardful of your native land,
Old Shakespeare's tongue you deign to understand,
Hudibras: Part 2 - Canto I
© Samuel Butler
Quoth she, I grant it is in vain.
For one that's basted to feel pain,
Because the pangs his bones endure
Contribute nothing to the cure:
Yet honor hurt, is wont to rage
With pain no med'cine can asswage.
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,
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;
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
M'Gillviray's Dream
© Thomas Bracken
A Forest-Ranger's Story.
JUST nineteen long years, Jack, have passed o'er my shoulders
Valentine's Day
© William Shenstone
'Tis said that under distant skies,
Nor you the fact deny,
What first attracts an Indian's eyes
Becomes his deity.
Brought From Beyond
© Amy Clampitt
The magpie and the bowerbird, its odd
predilection unheard of by Marco Polo
when he came upon, high in Badakhshan,
that blue stones
The Dead Poet
© Lord Alfred Douglas
And then methought outside a fast locked gate
I mourned the loss of unrecorded words,
Forgotten tales and mysteries half said,
Wonders that might have been articulate,
And voiceless thoughts like murdered singing birds.
And so I woke and knew that he was dead.
The Vengeance Of The Goddess Diana
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
The shore sloped upward into foliaged hills,
Cleft by the channels of rock-fretted rills,
That flashed their wavelets, touched by iris lights,
O'er many a tiny cataract down the heights.
To an Antiquated Coquette
© Charles Sackville
Phyllis, if you will not agree
To give me back my liberty,
The Ladle. A Tale
© Matthew Prior
Our gods the outward gates unbarr'd;
Our farmer met 'em in the yard;
Thought they were folks that lost their way,
And ask'd them civilly to stay;
Told 'em for supper or for bed
They might go on and be worse sped. -
Frost
© Madison Julius Cawein
White artist he, who, breezeless nights,
From tingling stars jocosely whirls,
A harlequin in spangled tights,
His wand a pot of pounded pearls.
The Aeneid of Virgil: Book 2
© Publius Vergilius Maro
ALL were attentive to the godlike man,
When from his lofty couch he thus began:
There Is Another Way by Pat Schneider: American Life in Poetry #58 Ted Kooser, U.S. Poet Laureate 20
© Ted Kooser
In the sweet marrow of a bone,
the maggot does not remember
the wingspread
of the mother, the green
shine of her body, nor even
the last breath of the dying deer.
Radha And Krishna Make A Date
© Sant Surdas
Thus did Radha and Krishna feel in their hearts the transports of first love
