Cool poems
/ page 88 of 144 /The Poplar Field
© Caroline Norton
"The poplars are fell'd: farewell to the shade,
And the whispering sound of the cool colonnade;
The winds play no longer and sing in the leaves,
Nor Ouse on his bosom their image receives.
The More a Man Has the More a Man Wants
© Paul Muldoon
At four in the morning he wakes
to the yawn of brakes,
To a Young Poet
© Mahmoud Darwish
Don’t believe our outlines, forget them
and begin from your own words.
As if you are the first to write poetry
or the last poet.
Atlantic Oil
© Cesare Pavese
The drunk mechanic is happy to be in the ditch.
From the tavern, five minutes through the dark field
Believe, Believe
© Bob Kaufman
Believe in this. Young apple seeds,
In blue skies, radiating young breast,
Gareth And Lynette
© Alfred Tennyson
To whom the mother said,
'True love, sweet son, had risked himself and climbed,
And handed down the golden treasure to him.'
God of the Open Air
© Henry Van Dyke
But One, but One,-ah, child most dear,
And perfect image of the Love Unseen,-
Walked every day in pastures green,
And all his life the quiet waters by,
Reading their beauty with a tranquil eye.
The Bowl Of Water
© Robert Laurence Binyon
She is eight years old.
When she laughs, her eyes laugh;
Light dances in her eyes;
She tosses back her long hair
Cupid's Arrows
© Rudyard Kipling
Pit where the buffalo cooled his hide,
By the hot sun emptied, and blistered and dried;
Metamorphoses: Book The Thirteenth
© Ovid
The End of the Thirteenth 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
Sea Longing
© Sara Teasdale
A thousand miles beyond this sun-steeped wall
Somewhere the waves creep cool along the sand,
The Last Caesar
© Thomas Bailey Aldrich
In the Elysée, and had lost the day
But that around him flocked his birds of prey,
Sharp-beaked, voracious, hungry for the deed.
'Twixt hope and fear beheld great Cæsar hang!
Meanwhile, methinks, a ghostly laughter rang
Through the rotunda of the Invalides.
Under The Willows
© James Russell Lowell
Frank-hearted hostess of the field and wood,
Gypsy, whose roof is every spreading tree,
The Watcher in the Wood
© Dora Sigerson Shorter
Deep in the wood's recesses cool
I see the fairy dancers glide,
In cloth of gold, in gown of green,
My lord and lady side by side.
The Columbiad: Book VI
© Joel Barlow
But of all tales that war's black annals hold,
The darkest, foulest still remains untold;
New modes of torture wait the shameful strife,
And Britain wantons in the waste of life.