Good poems
/ page 425 of 545 /In The Harbour: Loss And Gain
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
When I compare
What I have lost with what I have gained,
What I have missed with what attained,
Little room do I find for pride.
Madness
© Henry James Pye
Here some grave Man whose head with prudence fraught
Was ne'er disturb'd by one eccentric thought,
Who without meaning rolls his leaden eyes,
And being stupid, fancies he is wise,
May with sagacious sneers my case deplore,
And urge the use of rest, and Hellebore.
Acrostic : Georgiana Augusta Keats
© John Keats
Kind sister! aye, this third name says you are;
Enchanted has it been the Lord knows where;
And may it taste to you like good old wine,
Take you to real happiness and give
Sons, daughters and a home like honied hive.
The Correspondence School Instructor Says Goodbye To His Poetry Students
© Galway Kinnell
Goodbye,
you who are, for me, the postmarks again
of shattered towns-Xenia, Burnt Cabins, Hornell-
their loneliness
given away in poems, only their solitude kept.
Fragment At Tunbridge-Wells
© Anne Kingsmill Finch
FOR He, that made, must new create us,
Ere Seneca, or Epictetus,
How Could You Not
© Galway Kinnell
-- for Jane kenyon
It is a day after many days of storms.
Having been washed and washed, the air glitters;
small heaped cumuli blow across the sky; a shower
Our Mountain Cemetery
© Rosanna Eleanor Leprohon
Lonely and silent and calm it lies
Neath rosy dawn or midnight skies;
So densely peopled, yet so still,
The murmuring voice of mountain rill,
The plaint the wind mid branches wakes,
Alone the solemn silence breaks.
Oatmeal
© Galway Kinnell
I eat oatmeal for breakfast.
I make it on the hot plate and put skimmed milk on it.
I eat it alone.
I am aware it is not good to eat oatmeal alone.
Ode To Walt Whitman
© Stephen Vincent Benet
"Let me taste all, my flesh and my fat are sweet,
My body hardy as lilac, the strong flower.
I have tasted the calamus; I can taste the nightbane."
Thirty Bob a Week
© John Davidson
I couldn't touch a stop and turn a screw,
And set the blooming world a-work for me,
Like such as cut their teeth -- I hope, like you --
On the handle of a skeleton gold key;
I cut mine on a leek, which I eat it every week:
I'm a clerk at thirty bob as you can see.
The Chimney - Sweeper
© William Blake
When my mother died I was very young,
And my father sold me while yet my tongue
Could scarcely cry "Weep! weep! weep! weep!"
So your chimneys I sweep, and in soot I sleep.
A Woman
© John Greenleaf Whittier
Oh, dwarfed and wronged, and stained with ill,
Behold! thou art a woman still!
Imagination
© John Davidson
There is a dish to hold the sea,
A brazier to contain the sun,
A compass for the galaxy,
A voice to wake the dead and done!
Answering The Usual Questions
© Edgar Albert Guest
My name is Johnny Vincent Brown,
I live on Leicester Court,
The Rhyme of the Three Greybeards
© Henry Lawson
He'd been for years in Sydney "a-acting of the goat",
His name was Joseph Swallow, "the Great Australian Pote",
In spite of all the stories and sketches that he wrote.
The Vision Of Piers Plowman - Part 07
© William Langland
Treuthe herde telle herof, and to Piers sente
To taken his teme and tilien the erthe,
And purchaced hym a pardoun a pena et a culpa
For hym and for hyse heirs for ever oore after-
Prologue to Rodin in Rime
© Aleister Crowley
To Kathleen-Nor I can give, nor you can take; endures
The simple truth of me that is yours.
Is not the music mingled with the form
When all the heavens break in blind black storm?
Hymn to Lucifer
© Aleister Crowley
Ware, nor of good nor ill, what aim hath act?
Without its climax, death, what savour hath
Life? an impeccable machine, exact
He paces an inane and pointless path
The Borough. Letter XII: Players
© George Crabbe
DRAWN by the annual call, we now behold
Our Troop Dramatic, heroes known of old,
And those, since last they march'd, enlisted and