Good poems
/ page 149 of 545 /Mother's Job
© Edgar Albert Guest
I'm just the man to make things right,
To mend a sleigh or make a kite,
Ashtabula Disaster
© Julia A Moore
Swiftly passed the engine's call,
Hastening souls on to death,
Warning not one of them all;
It brought despair right and left.
Ballade Of The Average Reader
© Franklin Pierce Adams
Most read of readers, if you've read
The works of any old succeeder,
You know that he, too, must have said:
"I've never seen an Average Reader."
O Night O Trembling Night
© Stephen Spender
O night O trembling night O night of sighs
O night when my body was a rod O night
When my mouth was a vague animal cry
Pasturing on her flesh O night
When the close darkness was a nest
Made of her hair and filled with my eyes
A Fact, And An Imagination, Or, Canute And Alfred, On The Seashore
© William Wordsworth
THE Danish Conqueror, on his royal chair,
Mustering a face of haughty sovereignty,
To aid a covert purpose, cried--"O ye
Approaching Waters of the deep, that share
The Letter of Cupid
© Thomas Hoccleve
Hir wordes spoken been so sighingly
And with so pitous cheere and contenance,
That every wight that meeneth trewely
Deemeth that they in herte han swich greuance.
They sayn so importable is hir penance
Sixth Sunday After Trinity
© John Keble
When bitter thoughts, of conscience born,
With sinners wake at morn,
Sonnet To A Young Lady On Her Birth-Day
© William Cowper
Deem not, sweet rose, that bloom'st 'midst many a thorn,
Thy friend, tho' to a cloister's shade consign'd,
AN ELEGY Upon the death of Mr. Edward Holt
© Henry King
VVhether thy Fathers, or diseases rage,
More mortal prov'd to thy unhappy age,
Our sorrow needs not question; since the first
Is known for length and sharpness much the worst.
The Old Year
© Christopher Pearse Cranch
O good old Year! this night's your last.
And must you go? With you I've passed
Some days that bear revision.
For these I'd thank you, ere you make
Ode
© Richard Lovelace
I.
You are deceiv'd; I sooner may, dull fair,
Seat a dark Moor in Cassiopea's chair,
Or on the glow-worm's uselesse light
Isabella; Or, The Pot Of Basil: A Story From Boccaccio
© John Keats
I.
Fair Isabel, poor simple Isabel!
The Story of Flying Robert
© Heinrich Hoffmann
When the rain comes tumbling down
In the country or the town,
All good little girls and boys
Stay at home and mind their toys.
Hope Is Not For The Wise
© Robinson Jeffers
Hope is not for the wise, fear is for fools;
Change and the world, we think, are racing to a fall,
Upon Phillis Walking In A Morning Before Sun-rising
© John Cleveland
THE sluggish morne as yet undrest,
My Phillis brake from out her East;
Stanzas
© George Gordon Byron
Could Love for ever
Run like a river,
And Time's endeavour
Be tried in vain
Jump-To-Glory Jane
© George Meredith
A revelation came on Jane,
The widow of a labouring swain:
And first her body trembled sharp,
Then all the woman was a harp
With winds along the strings; she heard,
Though there was neither tone nor word.
A Story Of Doom: Book IV.
© Jean Ingelow
Now while these evil ones took counsel strange,
The son of Lamech journeyed home; and, lo!