Good poems

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Amoretti LXVII: Like as a Huntsman

© Edmund Spenser

Like as a huntsman after weary chase,

Seeing the game from him escap'd away,

A Hymn Of Heavenly Beauty

© Edmund Spenser

Rapt with the rage of mine own ravish'd thought,

Through contemplation of those goodly sights,

God's Judgment on a Wicked Bishop

© Robert Southey

The summer and autumn had been so wet,
That in winter the corn was growing yet,
'Twas a piteous sight to see all around
The grain lie rotting on the ground.

Jubilate Agno (excerpt)

© Christopher Smart

For I will consider my Cat Jeoffry.

For he is the servant of the Living God duly and daily serving him.

Astrophel and Stella: XXXIX

© Sir Philip Sidney

Come Sleep! O Sleep, the certain knot of peace,

The baiting-place of wit, the balm of woe,

Astrophel and Stella: XV

© Sir Philip Sidney

You that do search for every purling spring

Which from the ribs of old Parnassus flows,

Astrophel and Stella: XLI

© Sir Philip Sidney

Having this day my horse, my hand, my lance

Guided so well that I obtain'd the prize,

Astrophel and Stella: XCII

© Sir Philip Sidney

Be your words made, good sir, of Indian ware,

That you allow me them by so small rate?

Astrophel and Stella: LXXI

© Sir Philip Sidney

Who will in fairest book of nature know

How virtue may best lodg'd in beauty be,

Astrophel and Stella

© Sir Philip Sidney

Doubt you to whom my Muse these notes entendeth,
Which now my breast, surcharg'd, to musick lendeth!
To you, to you, all song of praise is due,
Only in you my song begins and endeth.

Im going in 2 this not knowing what i"ll find
but I've decided 2 follow my heart and abandon my mind
and if there be pain i know that at least i gave my all
and it's better to have loved and lost than 2 not love at all
in the morning i may wake 2 smile or maybe 2 cry
but first to those of my past i must say goodbye

Stepping Backward

© Adrienne Rich

Good-by to you whom I shall see tomorrow,

Next year and when I'm fifty; still good-by.

Snapshots of a Daughter-In-Law

© Adrienne Rich

You, once a belle in Shreveport,
with henna-colored hair, skin like a peachbud,
still have your dresses copied from that time,
and play a Chopin prelude
called by Cortot: "Delicious recollections
float like perfume through the memory."

Paula Becker to Clara Westhoff

The autumn feels slowed down,

summer still holds on here, even the light

The Four Seasons

© Obi Nwakanma

The forest hugs them
carves them into stones,
Etches them into the slow
eastern landscape: rivers, hills
the slow running water,
times broken inscapes…