Cool poems
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The Statue
© Kenneth Allott
however picturesque
however figurative
whether so often and so quizzical
whoever it was crying in another voice…
Let us sit like tailors. At least 1 am sure of this:
man or woman or beast I recall no face.
The Neckar
© Friedrich Hölderlin
My heart awakened to life in your valleys,
Your waves played around me.
And all of the fair hills that know you,
Wayfarer, are known to me as well.
The Wonder-Working Magician - Act II
© Denis Florence MacCarthy
CYPRIAN. Ever wrangling in this way,
How ye both my patience try!
Why can he not go? Say why?
The Castle Of Indolence
© James Thomson
The castle hight of Indolence,
And its false luxury;
Where for a little time, alas!
We lived right jollily.
Metamorphoses: Book The Eighth
© Ovid
The End of the Eighth 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
The Water Crowvoot
© William Barnes
O' small-feäc'd flow'r that now dost bloom
To stud wi' white the shallow Frome,
Dedication - The Poems Of Goeth
© Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
By new-born flow'rs that full of dew-drops hung;
The youthful day awoke with ecstacy,
And all things quicken'd were, to quicken me.
Ye Wearie Wayfarer [A Dedication to the author of Holmby House"
© Adam Lindsay Gordon
Fytte I
By Wood and Wold
[A Preamble]
The Rape Of Lucrece
© William Shakespeare
TO THE
RIGHT HONORABLE HENRY WRIOTHESLY,
Earl of Southampton, and Baron of Tichfield.
Aholibah
© Algernon Charles Swinburne
IN the beginning God made thee
A woman well to look upon,
Thy tender body as a tree
Whereon cool wind hath always blown
Till the clean branches be well grown.
Love Is A Terrible Thing
© Grace Fallow Norton
"For there is a flame that has blown too near,
And there is a name that has grown too dear,
And there is a fear"...
Hermann And Dorothea - I. Kalliope
© Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
But the worthy landlord only smiled, and then answer'd
I shall dreadfully miss that ancient calico garment,
Genuine Indian stuff! They're not to be had any longer.
Well! I shall wear it no more. And your poor husband henceforward
Always must wear a surtout, I suppose, or commonplace jacket,
Always must put on his boots; good bye to cap and to slippers!"
August Moonrise
© Sara Teasdale
THE sun was gone, and the moon was coming
Over the blue Connecticut hills;
The west was rosy, the east was flushed,
And over my head the swallows rushed
Abraham Davenport
© John Greenleaf Whittier
'T was on a May-day of the far old year
Seventeen hundred eighty, that there fell
Over the bloom and sweet life of the Spring,
Over the fresh earth and the heaven of noon,
A horror of great darkness, like the night
In day of which the Norland sagas tell,--
Hymns to the Night : 4
© Novalis
Now I know when will come the last morning - when the Light no more scares away Night and Love - when sleep shall be without waking, and but one continuous dream. I feel in me a celestial exhaustion. Long and weariful was my pilgrimage to the holy grave, and crushing was the cross. The crystal wave, which, imperceptible to the ordinary sense, springs in the dark bosom of the mound against whose foot breaks the flood of the world, he who has tasted it, he who has stood on the mountain frontier of the world, and looked across into the new land, into the abode of the Night - truly he turns not again into the tumult of the world, into the land where dwells the Light in ceaseless unrest.
On those heights he builds for himself tabernacles - tabernacles of peace, there longs and loves and gazes across, until the welcomest of all hours draws him down into the waters of the spring - afloat above remains what is earthly, and is swept back in storms, but what became holy by the touch of love, runs free through hidden ways to the region beyond, where, like fragrances, it mingles with love asleep.
At The Linn-Side
© Dinah Maria Mulock Craik
O LIVING, living water,
So busy and so bright,
Aye flashing in the morning beams,
And sounding through the night;
The Death Of Adam
© Robert Laurence Binyon
Cedars, that high upon the untrodden slopes
Of Lebanon stretch out their stubborn arms,
Through all the tempests of seven hundred years
Fast in their ancient place, where they look down
Laus Virginitatis
© Arthur Symons
The mirror of men's eyes delights me less,
mirror, than the friend I find in thee;
Thou loves!:, as I love, my loveliness,
Thou givest my beauty back to me.
The Golden Legend: III. A Street In Strasburg
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
_Crier of the dead (ringing a bell)._ Wake! wake!
All ye that sleep!
Pray for the Dead!
Pray for the Dead!
