Good poems
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The House Of Dust: Part 02: 08: The Box With Silver Handles
© Conrad Aiken
Well,it was two days after my husband died
Two days! And the earth still raw above him.
And I was sweeping the carpet in their hall.
In number fourthe room with the red wall-paper
The House Of Dust: Part 01: 01: The sun goes down in a cold pale flare of light
© Conrad Aiken
The sun goes down in a cold pale flare of light.
The trees grow dark: the shadows lean to the east:
And lights wink out through the windows, one by one.
A clamor of frosty sirens mourns at the night.
Pale slate-grey clouds whirl up from the sunken sun.
The House Of Dust: Complete (Long)
© Conrad Aiken
. . . Parts of this poem have been printed in "The North American
Review, Others, Poetry, Youth, Coterie, The Yale Review". . . . I am
indebted to Lafcadio Hearn for the episode called "The Screen Maiden"
in Part II.
The Deserted Palace
© Robert Laurence Binyon
``My feet are dead, the cold rain beats my face!''
``Courage, sweet love, this tempest is our friend!''
``Yet oh, shall we not rest a little space?
This city sleeps; some corner may defend
A Ballad Of Santa Claus
© Henry Van Dyke
For the St. Nicholas Society of New York
Among the earliest saints of old, before the first Hegira,
Nocturne Of Remembered Spring
© Conrad Aiken
I. Moonlight silvers the tops of trees,
Moonlight whitens the lilac shadowed wall
And through the evening fall,
Clearly, as if through enchanted seas,
Tales Of A Wayside Inn : Part 3. Interlude II.
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Well pleased all listened to the tale,
That drew, the Student said, its pith
Rabbi Ismael
© John Greenleaf Whittier
THE Rabbi Ishmael, with the woe and sin
Of the world heavy upon him, entering in
The Calf-Path
© Sam Walter Foss
One day, through the primeval wood,
A calf walked home, as good calves should;
But made a trail all bent askew,
A crooked trail as all calves do.
Sweethearts
© Dame Mary Gilmore
ITS gettin bits o posies,
N feelin mighty good;
A-thrillin cause she loves you,
An wondrin why she should;
A Fit of Rhyme against Rhyme
© Benjamin Jonson
Rhyme, the rack of finest wits,
That expresseth but by fits
An Answer
© George Frederick Cameron
So, say:It must be good to die, my friend!
It must be good and more than good, I deem;
'Tis all the replication I may send
For deeper swimming seek a deeper stream.
The Sycamores
© John Greenleaf Whittier
In the outskirts of the village
On the river's winding shores
Stand the Occidental plane-trees,
Stand the ancient sycamores.
The Norsemen ( From Narrative and Legendary Poems )
© John Greenleaf Whittier
GIFT from the cold and silent Past!
A relic to the present cast,
Left on the ever-changing strand
Of shifting and unstable sand,
The Eternal Goodness
© John Greenleaf Whittier
O Friends! with whom my feet have trod
The quiet aisles of prayer,
Glad witness to your zeal for God
And love of man I bear.
The Changeling ( From The Tent on the Beach )
© John Greenleaf Whittier
FOR the fairest maid in Hampton
They needed not to search,
Who saw young Anna favor
Come walking into church,--
Dorothy Q.
© Oliver Wendell Holmes
GRANDMOTHER's mother: her age, I guess,
Thirteen summers, or something less;
To Mr. Rowland Woodward
© John Donne
LIKE one who in her third widowhood doth profess
Herself a nun, tied to retiredness,
So affects my Muse, now, a chaste fallowness.
