Good poems

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We are Transmitters

© David Herbert Lawrence

And if, as we work, we can transmit life into our work,
life, still more life, rushes into us to compensate, to be ready
and we ripple with life through the days.

The Song of a Man Who has Come Through

© David Herbert Lawrence

Oh, for the wonder that bubbles into my soul,
I would be a good fountain, a good well-head,
Would blur no whisper, spoil no expression.

Unto This Last

© Francis Thompson

A boy's young fancy taketh love

Most simply, with the rind thereof;

It is stormy, and raindrops cling like silver bees to the pane,
The thin sycamores in the playground are swinging with flattened leaves;
The heads of the boys move dimly through a yellow gloom that stains
The class; over them all the dark net of my discipline weaves.

The Peasant's Return

© William Barnes

And passing here through evening dew,
He hastened happy to her door,
But found the old folk only two
With no more footsteps on the floor
To walk again below the skies
Where beaten paths do fall and rise.

The Witch's Frolic

© Richard Harris Barham

Thou mayest have read, my little boy Ned,
Though thy mother thine idlesse blames,
In Doctor Goldsmith's history book,
Of a gentleman called King James,
In quilted doublet, and great trunk breeches,
Who held in abhorrence tobacco and witches.

The Me Within Thee Blind!

© Dora Sigerson Shorter

Since God is lost, then all is lost indeed.
You did not know the comfort or the need
Of God for me, who am so frail and weak.
Blown by all winds, I know not where to seek.

Dream Song 133: As he grew famousah, but what is fame?

© John Berryman

As he grew famousah, but what is fame?
he lost his old obsession with his name,
things seemed to matter less,
including the famea television team came
from another country to make a film of him
which did not him distress:

The Song Of The Allies

© Wilcox Ella Wheeler

We are the Allies of God to-day,

And the width of the earth is our right of way.

The Wake Of Tim O'Hara

© William Cosmo Monkhouse

TO the Wake of OHara

Came company;

The Swan Of Dijon

© Wilcox Ella Wheeler

I was in Dijon when the war's wild blast

Was at its loudest; when there was no sound

One Day And Another: A Lyrical Eclogue Part I

© Madison Julius Cawein

Herein the dearness of her is;
The thirty perfect days of June
Made one, in maiden loveliness
Were not more sweet to clasp and kiss,
With love not more in tune.

A Terre (being the philosophy of many soldiers)

© Wilfred Owen

Sit on the bed. I'm blind, and three parts shell.
Be careful; can't shake hands now; never shall.
Both arms have mutinied against me,-brutes.
My fingers fidget like ten idle brats.

A Point Of Honour

``Tell me again; I did not hear: It was wailing so sadly. Nay,
Hush! little one, for mother wants to know what they have to say.
There! At my breast be good and still! What quiets you calms me too.
They say that the source is poisoned; still, it seems pure enough for you!

Landscape

Now this must be the sweetest place
From here to heaven's end;
The field is white and flowering lace,
The birches leap and bend,

To Charlotte Cushman

Look where a three-point star shall weave his beam
Into the slumb'rous tissue of some stream,
Till his bright self o'er his bright copy seem
Fulfillment dropping on a come-true dream;