Good poems
/ page 1 of 545 /Translation of Lucius Afranius "Auctio"
© MikeM70
Auctio
Simul límen intrabo, ílli extrabunt ílico.
adeste, si híc absente nóbis uenierít puer.
The Emigrants: Book II
© Charlotte Turner Smith
Scene, on an Eminence on one of those Downs, which afford to the South a view of the Sea; to the North of the Weald of Sussex. Time, an Afternoon in April, 1793.
The Emigrants: Book I
© Charlotte Turner Smith
Scene, on the Cliffs to the Eastward of the Town of
Brighthelmstone in Sussex. Time, a Morning in November, 1792.
In Memoriam A. H. H.: 6. One writes, that Other Friends Rem
© Alfred Tennyson
O mother, praying God will save
Thy sailor,--while thy head is bow'd,
His heavy-shotted hammock-shroud
Drops in his vast and wandering grave.
In Memoriam A. H. H.: 54. Oh, yet we Trust that somehow Goo
© Alfred Tennyson
Behold, we know not anything;
I can but trust that good shall fall
At last--far off--at last, to all,
And every winter change to spring.
In Memoriam A. H. H.: 131. O living will that shalt endure
© Alfred Tennyson
O true and tried, so well and long,
Demand not thou a marriage lay;
In that it is thy marriage day
Is music more than any song.
In Memoriam A. H. H.: 105. To-night ungather'd let us leave
© Alfred Tennyson
Let cares that petty shadows cast,
By which our lives are chiefly proved,
A little spare the night I loved,
And hold it solemn to the past.
In Memoriam A. H. H. Obiit MDCCCXXXIII: 3. O Sorrow, cruel
© Alfred Tennyson
And shall I take a thing so blind,
Embrace her as my natural good;
Or crush her, like a vice of blood,
Upon the threshold of the mind?
Shut Up And Eat Your Toad
© James Tate
The disorganization to which I currently belong
has skipped several meetings in a row
Happy As The Day Is Long
© James Tate
I take the long walk up the staircase to my secret room.
Today's big news: they found Amelia Earhart's shoe, size 9.
Goodtime Jesus
© James Tate
Jesus got up one day a little later than usual. He had been dream-
ing so deep there was nothing left in his head. What was it?
A nightmare, dead bodies walking all around him, eyes rolled
back, skin falling off. But he wasn't afraid of that. It was a beau-
tiful day. How 'bout some coffee? Don't mind if I do. Take a little
ride on my donkey, I love that donkey. Hell, I love everybody.
The Comedian As The Letter C
© Wallace Stevens
379 Trinket pasticcio, flaunting skyey sheets,
380 With Crispin as the tiptoe cozener?
381 No, no: veracious page on page, exact.
from Amoretti: Sonnet 67
© Edmund Spenser
Like as a huntsman after weary chase,
Seeing the game from him escap'd away,