Great poems

/ page 137 of 549 /

Order by :

1
. . .
132
133
134
135
136
137
138
139
140
141
142
. . .
549

John Keats

© Adelaide Crapsey

Eternity. Thou shalt
Pass sleeping, nor know
When sleeping ceases. Yet still
A little while thy breathing lasts,
Gradual is fainter: I
must listen close - the end."

Willie's Question

© George MacDonald

I.
Willie speaks.
Is it wrong, the wish to be great,
For I do wish it so?
I have asked already my sister Kate;
She says she does not know.

Requiem

© Madison Julius Cawein

I

No more for him, where hills look down,

And as he walked he prayed. Even the same
Old prayer with which, for half a score of years,
Morning, and noon, and evening, lip and heart
Had groaned: "Have pity upon me, Lord!
Thou seest, while teaching others, I am blind.
Send me a man who can direct my steps!"

Epilogue

© Edgar Lee Masters

You're dreaming worlds. I'm in the King row.
Move as you will, if I can't wreck you
I'll thwart you, harry you, rout you, check you.

The Sweet Little Man

© Oliver Wendell Holmes

Now, while our soldiers are fighting our battles,
Each at his post to do all that he can,
Down among rebels and contraband chattels,
What are you doing, my sweet little man?

Apostrophe

© Charlotte Turner Smith

TO AN OLD TREE.
WHERE thy broad branches brave the bitter North,
Like rugged, indigent, unheeded, worth,
Lo! Vegetation's guardian hands emboss

To Timarion

© Marjorie Lowry Christie Pickthall

HAD I the thrush's throat, I could not sing you
Songs sweeter than his own. And I'm too poor
To lay the gifts that other lovers bring you
Low at your silver door.

San Stefano

© Sir Henry Newbolt

She'd a right fighting company, three hundred men and more,
Nine and forty guns in tackle running free;
And they cheered her from the shore for her colours at the fore,
When the bold _Menelaus_ put to sea.

A Fly Caught In A Cobweb

© Richard Lovelace

Small type of great ones, that do hum
Within this whole world's narrow room,
That with a busie hollow noise
Catch at the people's vainer voice,

On Lucy, Countess of Bedford

© Benjamin Jonson

This morning, timely rapt with holy fire,

I thought to form unto my zealous Muse

Kathleens Charity

© Dora Sigerson Shorter

"God bless the work," said young Kathleen,

She bent her golden head,

The Tower of Doctrine - (from the History of Graunde Amoure)

That treated well of a ful noble story,
Of the doubty waye to the tower perillous;
Howe a noble knyght should wynne the victory
Of many a serpente foule and odious:
***

Three Poems on Wine

© Li Po

I.

Among the flowers a drink of wine.

The Bronze David Of Donatello

To so much strength, those overborne by it
Seemed girls, and death came to it like a girl,
Came to it, through the soft air, like a bird-
So that the boy is like a girl, is like a bird
Standing on something it has pecked to death.