Good poems

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But the wild oats wave on their stormy path, and they speak of the hearts of men
I would sow a crop if I had my time in those hard old days again.
We travel first, or we go saloonon the planned-out trips we go,
With those who are neither rich nor poor, and we find that the life is slow;

The Branded Hand

© John Greenleaf Whittier

WELCOME home again, brave seaman! with thy thoughtful brow and gray,
And the old heroic spirit of our earlier, better day;
With that front of calm endurance, on whose steady nerve in vain
Pressed the iron of the prison, smote the fiery shafts of pain!

The Young Knight: A Parable

© Charles Kingsley

A gay young knight in Burley stood,
Beside him pawed his steed so good,
His hands he wrung as he were wood
With waiting for his love O!

St. Andrew's Day

© John Keble

When brothers part for manhood's race,
What gift may most endearing prove
To keep fond memory its her place,
And certify a brother's love?

The Faun

© John Le Gay Brereton

When I was but a little boy
Who hunted in the wood
To scare or mangle or destroy
A freakish elemental joy
That tasted life and found it good

The Alleys

© Henry Lawson

I was welcome in a palace when the ball was at my feet,

I was petted in a garden and my triumph was complete.

A Farm Walk

© Christina Georgina Rossetti

The year stood at its equinox
And bluff the North was blowing,
A bleat of lambs came from the flocks,
Green hardy things were growing;
I met a maid with shining locks
Where milky kine were lowing.

Self-Employed: For Harvey Shapiro

© David Ignatow

I stand and listen, head bowed,

to my inner complaint.

Classic Dancing in Cactus Center

© Arthur Chapman

Down here in Cactus Center we have lived a life apart;

We've been far, we're frank in sayin', from the headquarters of art...

An Essay on Man: Epistle 1

© Alexander Pope

To Henry St. John, Lord Bolingbroke

Awake, my St. John! leave all meaner things

Keep Out Of The Weeds

© William Henry Drummond

No smarter man you can never know
W'en I was a boy, dan Pierre Nadeau,
An' quiet he's too, very seldom talk,
But got an eye lak de mountain hawk,
See all aroun' heem mos' ev'ryw'ere,
An' not many folk is foolin' Pierre.

Sonnet XXXIII: My Cares Draw

© Samuel Daniel

My cares draw on mine everlasting night;

In horror's sable clouds sets my life's sun;

Lines On Hearing, Three Or Four Years Ago, That Constantinople Was Swallowed Up By An Earthquake;

© Amelia Opie

A Report, though false, at that time generally believed.

A. B. A.

Like Bunyan's pilgrim with his pack,

Forth went the dreaming youth

How The Fatuous Wish Of A Peasant Came True

This Moral by the tale is taught:--
The wish is father to the thought.
(We'd oftentimes escape the worst
If but the thinking part came first!)

The Dancers (For Edwin Arlington Robinson)

Ours is a still town, a sad town, a sober town,
Still lie the dun roads all empty in the sun,
Sad comes the day up and sad falls the night down,
And sadly go we sleepwise when the day's watch is done!

Loraine

In her dark-ringed eyes shone the sad unrest
That spoke in the heave of her troubled breast,
And her face was white as the chiselled stone,
And her lips pressed madly against my own,
And her heart beat wildly against my heart,
And we strove to go, but we could not part.