Cool poems
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Birdofredum Sawin; Esq., To Mr. Hosea Biglow
© James Russell Lowell
I hed it on my min' las' time, when I to write ye started,
To tech the leadin' featurs o' my gittin' me convarted;
Nathan The Wise - Act V
© Gotthold Ephraim Lessing
Here lies the money still, and no one finds
The dervis yet--he's probably got somewhere
Over a chess-board. Play would often make
The man forget himself, and why not, me.
Patience--Ha! what's the matter.
The Hermit Thrush
© Henry Van Dyke
O wonderful! How liquid clear
The molten gold of that ethereal tone,
The Eye
© Allen Tate
I see the horses and the sad streets
Of my childhood in an agate eye
Roving, under the clean sheets,
Over a black hole in the sky.
Abhangs (A Short Collection)
© Sant Tukaram
I was sleeping when Namdeo and Vitthal Stepped into my dream.
"Your job is to make poems. Stop wasting time," Namdeo said.
Vitthal gave me the measure and gently aroused me from a dream inside a dream.
Namdeo vowed to write one billion poems.
"Tuka, all the unwritten ones are your responsibility."
In Exile
© Emma Lazarus
Twilight is here, soft breezes bow the grass,
Day's sounds of various toil break slowly off,
The Woman
© Harriet Monroe
Go sleep, my sweetierestrest!
Oh soft little hand on mother's breast!
Oh soft little lipsthe din's mos' gone-
Over and done, my dearie one!
The Water-Witch
© Alice Guerin Crist
The little creek went winding down
Twixt whispering reeds and small blue flowers,
Singing a pleasant summer song
Of holidays and playtime hours.
The Vision Of Piers Plowman - Part 13
© William Langland
And I awaked therwith, witlees nerhande,
And as a freke that fey were, forth gan I walke
Elegy: Walking the Line
© Edgar Bowers
Every month or so, Sundays, we walked the line,
The limit and the boundary. Past the sweet gum
Superb above the cabin, along the wall
Stones gathered from the level field nearby
The Black Berrywears a Thorn in his side
© Emily Dickinson
The Black Berrywears a Thorn in his side
But no Man heard Him cry
He offers His Berry, just the same
To Partridgeand to Boy
Tewkesbury Road
© John Masefield
IT is good to be out on the road, and going one knows not where,
Going through meadow and village, one knows not whither or why;
Through the grey light drift of the dust, in the keen cool rush of the air,
Under the flying white clouds, and the broad blue lift of the sky.
Trade Winds
© John Masefield
IN the harbor, in the island, in the Spanish Seas,
Are the tiny white houses and the orange trees,
And day-long, night-long, the cool and pleasant breeze
Of the steady Trade Winds blowing.
The Everlasting Mercy
© John Masefield
Thy place is biggyd above the sterrys cleer,
Noon erthely paleys wrouhte in so statly wyse,
Com on my freend, my brothir moost enteer,
For the I offryd my blood in sacrifise.
John Lydgate.
The West Wind
© John Masefield
IT'S a warm wind, the west wind, full of birds' cries;
I never hear the west wind but tears are in my eyes.
For it comes from the west lands, the old brown hills.
And April's in the west wind, and daffodils.
My Garden
© Edward Thomas
A garden is a lovesome thing, God wot!
Rose plot,
Fringed pool,
Ferned grot--
Wayfearen
© William Barnes
The sky wer clear, the zunsheen glow'd
On droopèn flowers drough the day,
Kings College Chapel
© Charles Causley
When to the music of Byrd or Tallis,
The ruffed boys singing in the blackened stalls,
The candles lighting the small bones on their faces,
The Tudors stiff in marble on the walls.
