Good poems

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Ring Out Your Bells

© Sir Philip Sidney

Ring out your bells, let mourning shows be spread;
For Love is dead--
All love is dead, infected
With plague of deep disdain;

Of The Nature Of Things: Book VI - Part 01 - Proem

© Lucretius

And since I've taught thee that the world's great vaults
Are mortal and that sky is fashioned
Of frame e'en born in time, and whatsoe'er
Therein go on and must perforce go on

Come Sleep, O Sleep! The Certain Knot Of Peace

© Sir Philip Sidney

Come, Sleep! O Sleep, the certain knot of peace,
The baiting-place of wit, the balm of woe,
The poor man's wealth, the prisoner's release,
Th' indifferent judge between the high and low;

Sleep

© Sir Philip Sidney

Come Sleep; O Sleep! the certain knot of peace,
The baiting-place of wit, the balm of woe,
The poor man's wealth, the prisoner's release,
Th' indifferent judge between the high and low;

Jim

© Hilaire Belloc

There was a Boy whose name was Jim;

His Friends were very good to him.

Lincoln

© John Gould Fletcher

Like a gaunt, scraggly pine
Which lifts its head above the mournful sandhills;
And patiently, through dull years of bitter silence,
Untended and uncared for, starts to grow.

A Reading Of Life--With The Persuader

© George Meredith

So is it sung in any space
She fills, with laugh at shallow laws
Forbidding love's devised embrace,
The music Beauty from it draws.

To Mary Anning

© John Kenyon

Thee, Mary! first 'twas lightning struck,

And then a water-vat half drowned;

Complaint Of Body, The Ass, Against His Rider, The Soul

Circe's Grief

© Louise Gluck

In the end, I made myself
Known to your wife as
A god would, in her own house, in
Ithaca, a voice

Circe's Power

© Louise Gluck

I never turned anyone into a pig.
Some people are pigs; I make them
Look like pigs.

Widows

© Louise Gluck

My mother's playing cards with my aunt,
Spite and Malice, the family pastime, the game
my grandmother taught all her daughters.

Fortune Of War

© Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

NOUGHT more accursed in war I know

Than getting off scot-free;

Siren

© Louise Gluck

I didn't want to go to Chicago with you.
I wanted to marry you, I wanted
Your wife to suffer.

Mon Choual "Castor"

I'm poor man, me, but I buy las' May
Wan horse on de Comp'nie Passengaire,
An' auction feller w'at sole heem say
She's out of de full-breed "Messengaire."

But if at first he minds his hits,
And drinks Champaigne among the wits,
Five deep he toasts the towering lasses,
Repeats yon verse wrote on glasses:
Is in the chair, prescribes the law,
And lies with those he never saw.