Good poems
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Sabbath Queen
© Hayyim Nahman Bialik
The sun has already disappeared beyond the treetops,
Come let us go and welcome the Sabbath Queen,
Running On!
© William Henry Ogilvie
The dusk is down on the river meadows,
The moon is climbing above the fir,
Lament on the Death of Willie
© Julia A Moore
Willie had a purple monkey climbing on a yellow stick,
And when he sucked the paint all off it made him deathly sick;
And in his latest hours he clasped that monkey in his hand,
And bade good-bye to earth and went into a better land.
Green Pear Tree in September by Freya Manfred : American Life in Poetry #259 Ted Kooser, U.S. Poet
© Ted Kooser
Wisconsin writer Freya Manfred is not only a fine poet but the daughter of the late Frederick Manfred, a distinguished novelist of the American west. Here is a lovely snapshot of her father, whom I cherished among my good friends.
Green Pear Tree in September
On a hill overlooking the Rock River
Freakin At The Freakers Ball
© Sheldon Allan Silverstein
Come on, baby, grease your lips,
Put on your hat, and shake your hips.
And dont forget to bring your ships.
Were goin to the Freakers Ball.
Out Of Hope
© Edith Nesbit
IF through the rain and wind along the street,
Where the wet stone reflects the flickering gas,
The Walking Man
© Henry Herbert Knibbs
Sunny summer day it was when loping in to Laramie,
I overtook the Walking Man, reined up and nodded "How!!"
The Boy Robert
© Richard Monckton Milnes
The stripling Robert, good and brave,
Holds in his hand a bare--drawn glaive,
And on the altar of the Lord,
He lays it with this earnest word:
To One Threatened With Blindness
© George MacDonald
I.
Lawrence, what though the world be growing dark,
A Toast
© Lola Ridge
Not your martyrs anointed of heaven -
The ages are red where they trod -
But the Hunted - the world's bitter leaven -
Who smote at your imbecile God -
Botany Bay 1786
© Anonymous
O'er Neptune's domain, how extensive the scope,
Of quickly returning, how defiant the hope,
he Capes must be doubled, and then bear away
Three thousand good leagues to reach Botany Bay.
Our Jack
© Henry Kendall
Twelve years ago our Jack was lost. All night,
Twelve years ago, the Spirit of the Storm
Nostalgia Of The Lakefronts
© Donald Justice
Cities burn behind us; the lake glitters.
A tall loudspeaker is announcing prizes;
Another, by the lake, the times of cruises.
Childhood, once vast with terrors and surprises,
Is fading to a landscape deep with distance
And always the sad piano in the distance,
A Nocturnal upon St. Lucy's Day, Being the Shortest Day
© John Donne
'Tis the year's midnight, and it is the day's,
Lucy's, who scarce seven hours herself unmasks;
Love And Beauty: II: To The Same
© Sydney Thompson Dobell
Oh Soul! that this fair flower dost so mirrour,
Ask of thyself, saying-'Soul beautiful,
Oh Soul-in-love, oh happy, happy Soul,
That wert so dull and poor, and this sweet hour
A Testimony
© Christina Georgina Rossetti
I said of laughter: it is vain.
Of mirth I said: what profits it?
Therefore I found a book, and writ
Therein how ease and also pain,
How health and sickness, every one
Is vanity beneath the sun.
A Cabin Tale
© Paul Laurence Dunbar
Dah now, ain't dat sto'y fine?
Run erlong now, nevah min'.
Want some mo', you rascal, you?
No, suh! no, suh! dat 'll do.
To Quilca, A Country-House in no very good Repair
© Jonathan Swift
Let me thy Properties explain,
A rotten Cabin, dropping Rain;
