Good poems
/ page 288 of 545 /The Storm
© Adam Mickiewicz
The rudder breaks, the sails are ripped, the roar
Of waters mingles with the ominous sound
The Supper
© Robert Laurence Binyon
Blind Roger
Set the glass in my hand. I'm blind and old,
But still I shun to be left in the cold.
Enough is as Good as a Feast
© Harry Graham
Who would not willingly forsake
Kindred and Home, without a fuss,
For Icing from a Birthday Cake,
Or juicy fat Asparagus,
And journey over countless seas
For New Potatoes and Green Peas?
The Broken Crutch: A Tale
© Robert Bloomfield
A burst of laughter rang throughout the hall,
And Peggy's tongue, though overborne by all,
Pour'd its warm blessings, for, without control
The sweet unbridled transport of her soul
Was obviously seen, till Herbert's kiss
Stole, as it were, the eloquence of bliss.
The Captain and the Mermaids
© William Schwenck Gilbert
I SING a legend of the sea,
So hard-a-port upon your lee!
A ship on starboard tack!
She's bound upon a private cruise -
(This is the kind of spice I use
To give a salt-sea smack).
Cold Calls: War Music, Continued
© Christopher Logue
Take Quinamid
The son of a Dardanian astrologer
Who disregarded what his father said
And came to Troy in a taxi.
Against the Dispraisers of Poetry
© Richard Barnfield
Chaucer is dead; and Gower lies in grave;
The Earl of Surrey long ago is gone;
The Ambitious Fox And The Unapproachable Grapes
© Guy Wetmore Carryl
A farmer built around his crop
A wall, and crowned his labors
By placing glass upon the top
To lacerate his neighbors,
Provided they at any time
Should feel disposed the wall to climb.
On Parting
© Hristo Botev
1868
Don't cry, mother, don't grieve
that I grew up as an outlaw,
an outlaw, mother, a rebel,
A Small Moment
© Cornelius Eady
I walk into the bakery next door
To my apartment. They are about
To pull some sort of toast with cheese
From the oven. When I ask:
What’s that smell? I am being
A poet, I am asking
Replica
© Marvin Bell
The fake Parthenon in Nashville, Stonehenge reduced by a quarter
near Maryhill on the Columbia, the little Statue of Liberty
The Kaiser's Feast
© Felicia Dorothea Hemans
Why fell there silence on the chord
Beneath the harper's hand?
And suddenly, from that rich board,
Why rose the wassail-band?
Lines Suggested By The Last Words Of Berengarius. Ob. Anno Dom. 1088
© Samuel Taylor Coleridge
No more 'twixt conscience staggering and the Pope
Soon shall I now before my God appear,
By him to be acquitted, as I hope;
By him to be condemned, as I fear.--
By The Waters Of Babylon
© Christina Georgina Rossetti
Here where I dwell I waste to skin and bone;
The curse is come upon me, and I waste
Nabokov’s Blues
© William Matthews
The wallful of quoted passages from his work,
with the requisite specimens pinned next
to their literary cameo appearances, was too good