Future poems
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The Marriage Of A Princess
© Confucius
In the magpie's nest
Dwells the dove at rest.
This young bride goes to her future home;
To meet her a hundred chariots come.
With A Copy of: "In Memoriam"
© George MacDonald
Dear friend, you love the poet's song,
And here is one for your regard.
You know the "melancholy bard,"
Whose grief is wise as well as strong;
A Modest Request
© Oliver Wendell Holmes
SCENE,--a back parlor in a certain square,
Or court, or lane,--in short, no matter where;
Time,--early morning, dear to simple souls
Who love its sunshine and its fresh-baked rolls;
Persons,--take pity on this telltale blush,
That, like the AEthiop, whispers, "Hush, oh hush!"
Absence
© Charles Harpur
NIGHTLY I watch the moon with silvery sheen
Flaking the city house-tops, till I feel
My Journey (With English Translation)
© Ali Sardar Jafri
PHIR IK DIN AISAA AAYEGAA
AAnKHOn KE DIYE BUJH JAAYEInGEY
A Descriptive Ode
© Charlotte Turner Smith
Supposed to have been written under the Ruins of
Rufus's Castle, among the remains of the ancient
Church on the Isle of Portland.
CHAOTIC pile of barren stone,
Secrets
© Letitia Elizabeth Landon
LIFE has dark secrets; and the hearts are few
That treasure not some sorrow from the world-
Tamerton Church-Tower, Or, First Love
© Coventry Kersey Dighton Patmore
III.
You paint a leaflet, here and there;
And not the blossom: tell
What mysteries of good and fair
These blazon'd letters spell.
But For The Tears
© Dora Sigerson Shorter
"The World were a place to play in," said the children,
"The playground of the present; all that is have we,
Death
© Madison Julius Cawein
THROUGH some strange sense of sight or touch
I find what all have found before,
The presence I have feared so much,
The unknowns immaterial door.
The Shepherd's Week : Saturday; or, The Flights
© John Gay
Bowzybeus.
Sublimer strains, O rustic muse, prepare;
The Garden-Chair
© Dinah Maria Mulock Craik
TWO PORTRAITS.
A PLEASANT picture, full of meanings deep,
Old age, calm sitting in the July sun,
On withered hands half-leaning--feeble hands,
Found Letter by Joshua Weiner: American Life in Poetry #123 Ted Kooser, U.S. Poet Laureate 2004-2006
© Ted Kooser
There is a type of poem, the Found Poem, that records an author's discovery of the beauty that occasionally occurs in the everyday discourse of others. Such a poem might be words scrawled on a wadded scrap of paper, or buried in the classified ads, or on a billboard by the road. The poet makes it his or her poem by holding it up for us to look at. Here the Washington, D.C., poet Joshua Weiner directs us to the poetry in a letter written not by him but to him.
To W.L. Garrison
© James Russell Lowell
In a small chamber, friendless and unseen,
Toiled o'er his types one poor, unlearned young man;
The place was dark, unfurnitured, and mean;
Yet there the freedom of a race began.
Sir Walter Scott
© Letitia Elizabeth Landon
DEAD!it was like a thunderbolt
To hear that he was dead;
Though for long weeks the words of fear
Came from his dying bed;
Yet hope denied, and would deny
We did not think that he could die.
Song Composed For Washington's Birthday
© Henry Timrod
A hundred years and more ago
A little child was born -
To-day, with pomp of martial show,
We hail his natal morn.
Ode on the Poetical Character
© William Taylor Collins
As once, if not with light regard,
I read aright that gifted bard,
Tannhauser
© Emma Lazarus
Far into Wartburg, through all Italy,
In every town the Pope sent messengers,
Riding in furious haste; among them, one
Who bore a branch of dry wood burst in bloom;
The pastoral rod had borne green shoots of spring,
And leaf and blossom. God is merciful.
The Ghost - Book III
© Charles Churchill
It was the hour, when housewife Morn
With pearl and linen hangs each thorn;
