Great poems

/ page 102 of 549 /

Order by :

1
. . .
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
. . .
549

Olympus

© Coventry Kersey Dighton Patmore

Through female subtlety intense,

Or the good luck of innocence,

The sun was streaming in: I woke, and said,
“Where is my wife,—that has been made my wife
Only this year?” The casement stood ajar:
I did but lift my head: The pear-tree dropped,
The great white pear-tree dropped with dew from leaves
And blossom, under heavens of happy blue.

London Excursion

© John Gould Fletcher

We gallop along
Alert and penetrating,
Roads open about us,
Housetops keep at a distance.

Wind Is Song

© Velimir Khlebnikov

Wind is song

Of whom and of what?

Near Perigord

© Ezra Pound

I
You'd have men's hearts up from the dust
And tell their secrets, Messire Cino,
Rigkt enough? Then read between the lines of Uc St. Circ,
Solve me the riddle, for you know the tale.

The Departure Of St. Patrick From Scotland

© Richard Monckton Milnes

Twice to your son already has the hand of God been shewn,
Restoring him from alien bonds to be once more your own,
And now it is the self--same hand, dear kinsmen, that to--day
Shall take me for the third time from all I love away.

Fetching The Wounded

© Robert Laurence Binyon

At the road's end glimmer the station lights;
How small beneath the immense hollow of Night's
Lonely and living silence! Air that raced
And tingled on the eyelids as we faced

Address To The Unco Guid

© Robert Burns

My Son, these maxims make a rule,
An' lump them aye thegither;
The Rigid Righteous is a fool,
The Rigid Wise anither:

Good Counsel of Chaucer

© Geoffrey Chaucer

Flee from the press, and dwell with soothfastness;

Suffice thee thy good, though it be small;

The Rabbit Catcher

© Sylvia Plath

It was a place of force
The wind gagging my mouth with my own blown hair,
Tearing off my voice, and the sea
Blinding me with its lights, the lives of the dead
Unreeling in it, spreading like oil.

To The Memory Of Raisley Calvert

© William Wordsworth

CALVERT! it must not be unheard by them
Who may respect my name, that I to thee
Owed many years of early liberty.
This care was thine when sickness did condemn

Brahmā, Vişņu, Śiva

© Rabindranath Tagore

nasad asin, no sad asit tadanim;
nasid raja no vioma paro yat.
kim avarivah? kuha? kasya sarmann?
Ambhah kim asid, gahanam gabhiram?

Jerusalem

© Sydney Thompson Dobell

If God so raise the Dead, shall He pass by

The Captive and the immemorable chain?

The God Of The Wood

© Bliss William Carman

HERE all the forces of the wood
As one converge,
To make the soul of solitude
Where all things merge.

The Unloved

These are the women whom no man has loved.

Year after year, day after day has moved

The City's Oldest Known Survivor of the Great War by James Doyle: American Life in Poetry #9 Ted Koo

© Ted Kooser

In eighteen lines—one long sentence—James Doyle evokes two settings: an actual parade and a remembered one. By dissolving time and contrasting the scenes, the poet helps us recognize the power of memory and the subtle ways it can move us.

The City's Oldest Known Survivor of the Great War

Scenes From The Faust Of Goethe

CHORUS:
Thy countenance gives the Angels strength,
Though none can comprehend Thee:
And all Thy lofty works
Are excellent as at the first day.

Tale XIV

dwell,
While he was acting (he would call it) well;
He bought as others buy, he sold as others sell;
There was no fraud, and he demanded cause
Why he was troubled when he kept the laws?"
"My laws!" said Conscience. "What," said he, "