Car poems
/ page 605 of 738 /
Sonnet 5: It Is Most True
© Sir Philip Sidney
It is most true, that eyes are form'd to serve
The inward light; and that the heavenly part
Ought to be king, from whose rules who do swerve,
Rebles to Nature, strive for their own smart.
The Masque Of Pandora
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
THE VOICE.
Not finished till I breathe the breath of life
Into her nostrils, and she moves and speaks.
Grey
© Archibald Thomas Strong
Lady of Sorrow! What though laughing blue,
Thy sister, mock mens anguish, and the sun
Song For The Last Act
© Louise Bogan
Now that I have your face by heart, I look
Less at its features than its darkening frame
Where quince and melon, yellow as young flame,
Lie with quilled dahlias and the shepherd's crook.
A Song-Sermon
© George MacDonald
To see thy creature thou wouldst crave-
Desire thy handiwork so fair;
Then wouldst thou call through death's dank air
And I would answer from the cave!
Would that thou hid me in the grave,
And kept me with death's gaoler-care!
Chanson Un Peu Naïve
© Louise Bogan
What body can be ploughed,
Sown, and broken yearly?
But she would not die, she vowed,
But she has, nearly.
Sing, heart sing;
Call and carol clearly.
Scarlet Flowers
© Margaret Elizabeth Sangster
A tired shop girl hurries by;
Their color seems to catch her eye;
She pauses, starts, and wistfully
She gazes up. It seems to me
That I can hear her longing sigh. . . .
A little shop girl hurries by.
To a Waterfowl
© William Cullen Bryant
Whither, midst falling dew,
While glow the heavens with the last steps of day
Far, through their rosy depths, dost thou pursue
Thy solitary way?
The Well Rising
© William Stafford
The well rising without sound,
the spring on a hillside,
the plowshare brimming through deep ground
everywhere in the field
The Prodigal Son
© John Newton
Afflictions, though they seem severe;
In mercy oft are sent;
They stopped the prodigal's career,
And forced him to repent.
Not So Much As What We Feel
© Sukasah Syahdan
not so much as what we feel
about this budding rose
is our love
In Memory Of Major Robert Gregory
© William Butler Yeats
Now that we're almost settled in our house
I'll name the friends that cannot sup with us
Beside a fire of turf in th' ancient tower,
And having talked to some late hour
A Nightmare
© William Schwenck Gilbert
When you're lying awake with a dismal headache, and repose is
taboo'd by anxiety,
The Falcon
© Coventry Kersey Dighton Patmore
Who would not be Sir Hubert, for his birth and bearing fine,
His rich sky-skirted woodlands, valleys flowing oil and wine;
Hark the sky-lark in the cloud
© Augusta Davies Webster
HARK the sky-lark in the cloud,
Hark the cricket in the grass,
Trilling blitheness clear and loud,
Chirping glee to all who pass.
Oh, the merry summer lay!
Earth and sky keep holiday.
A Petition
© Frances Anne Kemble
Lady, whom my beloved loves so well!
When on his clasping arm thy head reclineth,
When on thy lips his ardent kisses dwell,
And the bright flood of burning light that shineth
An Ode To Mr. Howard
© Matthew Prior
Dear Howard, from the soft assaults of love
Poets and painters never are secure;
Can I untouch'd the fair one's passions move,
Or thou draw beauty, and not feel its power?
Endymion.
© Adelaide Crapsey
"Let me be young," the Latmian shepherd prayed,
"And let me have on night-time hills long sleep;"
Of The Nature Of Things: Book III - Part 05 - Cerberus And Furies, And That Lack Of Light
© Lucretius
Tartarus, out-belching from his mouth the surge
Of horrible heat- the which are nowhere, nor
Discharged
© William Ernest Henley
Carry me out
Into the wind and the sunshine,
Into the beautiful world.
