Good poems
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Writin' Back To The Home-Folks
© James Whitcomb Riley
My dear old friends--It jes beats all,
The way you write a letter
Little Kids
© Wilcox Ella Wheeler
'Little kids,' you call us
As we are at play.
You were little children
Just the other day.
Tom Deadlight
© Herman Melville
Farewell and adieu to you noble hearties,--
Farewell and adieu to you ladies of Spain,
For I've received orders for to sail for the
Deadman,
But hope with the grand fleet to see you
again.
One Day And Another: A Lyrical Eclogue Part III
© Madison Julius Cawein
I seem to see her still; to see
That dim blue room. Her perfume comes
From lavender folds draped dreamily--
One blossom of brocaded blooms--
Some stuff of orient looms.
Insolent Storm Strikes At The Skull
© Sylvia Plath
Insolent storm strikes at the skull,
assaults the sleeping citadel,
knocking the warden to his knees
in impotence, to sue for peace,
AN EPITAPH On his most honoured Friend Richard Earl of Dorset
© Henry King
Let no profane ignoble foot tread neer
This hallow'd peece of earth, Dorset lies here.
A small sad relique of a noble spirit,
Free as the air, and ample as his merit;
A Story Of Doom: Book VIII.
© Jean Ingelow
Then one ran, crying, while Niloiya wrought,
"The Master cometh!" and she went within
To adorn herself for meeting him. And Shem
Went forth and talked with Japhet in the field,
And said, "Is it well, my brother?" He replied,
"Well! and, I pray you, is it well at home?"
Fragment: Such Hope, As Is The Sick Despair Of Good
© Percy Bysshe Shelley
Such hope, as is the sick despair of good,
Such fear, as is the certainty of ill,
Such doubt, as is pale Expectations food
Turned while she tastes to poison, when the will
Is powerless, and the spirit...
On A Summers Day
© Hayyim Nahman Bialik
When high noon on a summers day
makes the sky a fiery furnace
and the heart seeks a quiet corner for dreams,
then come to me, my weary friend.
O Navio Negreiro part 5 (With English Translation)
© Antonio de Castro Alves
Senhor Deus dos desgraçados!
Dizei-me vós, Senhor Deus!
The Suicide
© James Weldon Johnson
For fifty years,
Cruel, insatiable Old World.
You have punched me over the heart
Till you made me cough blood.
At The Gate Of The Convent
© Alfred Austin
Beside the Convent Gate I stood,
Lingering to take farewell of those
To whom I owed the simple good
Of three days' peace, three nights' repose.
A Manchester Poem
© George MacDonald
'Tis a poor drizzly morning, dark and sad.
The cloud has fallen, and filled with fold on fold
The chimneyed city; and the smoke is caught,
And spreads diluted in the cloud, and sinks,
A black precipitate, on miry streets.
And faces gray glide through the darkened fog.
An Apology For The Clergy,
© Mary Barber
How well these Laymen love to gibe,
And throw their Jests on Levi's Tribe!
Must One be toil'd to Death, they cry,
Whilst other Priests are yawning by?
Forgetful that He reaps the Gain,
Why should They waste their Lungs in vain?
The Author's Farewell to the Bushmen
© Henry Lawson
Some carry their swags in the Great North-West,
Where the bravest battle and die,
The Wisdom Of Merlyn
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
These are the time--words of Merlyn, the voice of his age recorded,
All his wisdom of life, the fruit of tears in his youth, of joy in his manhood hoarded,
All the wit of his years unsealed, to the witless alms awarded.
