Good poems
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May Day
© Edith Nesbit
Will you go a-maying, a-maying, a-maying,
Come and be my Queen of May and pluck the may with me?
The fields are full of daisy buds and new lambs playing,
The bird is on the nest, dear, the blossom's on the tree."
A Masque Presented At Ludlow Castle, 1634. (Comus)
© John Milton
The Scene changes to a stately palace, set out with all manner of
deliciousness: soft music, tables spread with all dainties. Comus
appears with his rabble, and the LADY set in an enchanted chair;
to
whom he offers his glass; which she puts by, and goes about to
rise.
The Stirrup Cup
© John Hay
My short and happy day is done,
The long and dreary night comes on;
And at my door the Pale Horse stands,
To carry me to unknown lands.
Photography Extraordinary
© Lewis Carroll
The Milk-and-Water School
Alas! she would not hear my prayer!
Yet it were rash to tear my hair;
Disfigured, I should be less fair.
Idyll IX. Pastorals
© Theocritus
DAPHNIS. MENALCAS. A SHEPHERD.
SHEPHERD.
A song from Daphnis! Open he the lay,
He open: and Menalcas follow next:
The Fakeham Ghost
© Robert Bloomfield
The Lawns were dry in Euston Park;
(Here Truth inspires my Tale)
The lonely footpath, still and dark,
Led over Hill and Dale.
Love Unknown
© George Herbert
Deare friend, sit down, the tale is long and sad:
And in my faintings I presume your love
The Ghost's Leavetaking
© Sylvia Plath
Enter the chilly no-man's land of about
Five o'clock in the morning, the no-color void
Where the waking head rubbishes out the draggled lot
Of sulfurous dreamscapes and obscure lunar conundrums
Which seemed, when dreamed, to mean so profoundly much,
When Hannah Pressed With Grief
© John Newton
When Hannah pressed with grief,
Poured forth her soul in prayer;
She quickly found relief,
And left her burden there:
Like her, in every trying case,
Let us approach the throne of grace.
The Epistle Of Grace Sent To The Seek Man
© Thomas Hoccleve
I' Gracë quen, and heuenly princesse, As depute be the souereyn kyng eterne,In erthe a-lowe to be the gyderesseThat liste the redy wey[ë]s for to lerne,In pilgrymagë him selff to gouerne Gretyng, with yerde & lore of disciplyne,To the that hast, and must be, one of myn.
It is me don to knowe & vnderstonde, Þat, this dethës seruaunt, malady,The hath arrest, and holdith now in hande,And the oppressith, nought knowyng the forwhi.I wil therfore, as for thi remedy, Ordeyne[n] in my best[ë] manere wise;I rede þe that thi self þou wel aduyse.
Becoming A Dad
© Edgar Albert Guest
Old women say that men don't know
The pain through which all mothers go,
Camp Followers
© Wilcox Ella Wheeler
In the old wars of the world there were camp-followers,
Women of ancient sins who gave themselves for hire,
Bread And Jam
© Edgar Albert Guest
I wish I was a poet like the men that write in books
The poems that we have to learn on valleys, hills an' brooks;
I'd write of things that children like an' know an' understand,
An' when the kids recited them the folks would call them grand.
If I'd been born a Whittier, instead of what I am,
I'd write a poem now about a piece of bread an' jam.
Autumn Winds
© Rosanna Eleanor Leprohon
Oh! Autumn winds, what means this plaintive wailing
Around the quiet homestead where we dwell?
Plain Sermons
© James Whitcomb Riley
I saw a man--and envied him beside--
Because of this world's goods he had great store;
But even as I envied him, he died,
And left me envious of him no more.
Mogg Megone - Part I.
© John Greenleaf Whittier
Who stands on that cliff, like a figure of stone,
Unmoving and tall in the light of the sky,
