Great poems
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The Book Of Paradise - The Seven Sleepers
© Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
And the sheep-dog will not leave them,--
Scared away, his foot all-mangled,
To his master still he presses,
And he joins the hidden party,
Joins the favorites of slumber.
The Bridal of the Year
© Denis Florence MacCarthy
Yes! the Summer is returning,
Warmer, brighter beams are burning
Fresh Air
© Kenneth Koch
3
Summer in the trees! “It is time to strangle several bad poets.”
The yellow hobbyhorse rocks to and fro, and from the chimney
Drops the Strangler! The white and pink roses are slightly agitated by the struggle,
But afterwards beside the dead “poet” they cuddle up comfortingly against their vase. They are safer now, no one will compare them to the sea.
Evening Ebb
© Robinson Jeffers
The ocean has not been so quiet for a long while; five nightherons
Fly shorelong voiceless in the hush of the air
Night Without Sleep
© Robinson Jeffers
The world’s as the world is; the nations rearm and prepare to change; the age of tyrants returns;
The greatest civilization that has ever existed builds itself higher towers on breaking foundations.
Recurrent episodes; they were determined when the ape’s children first ran in packs, chipped flint to an edge.
"The Foresters"
© William Watson
Clear as of old the great voice rings to-day,
While Sherwood's oak-leaves twine with Aldworth's bay:
Down Stream
© Louise Imogen Guiney
Scarred hemlock roots,
Oaks in mail, and willow-shoots
Spring’s first-knighted;
Clinging aspens grouped between,
Slender, misty-green,
Faintly affrighted:
A Legend of Service
© Henry Van Dyke
It pleased the Lord of Angels (praise His name!)
To hear, one day, report from those who came
Sonnet XXIII: Methought I Saw my Late Espoused Saint
© Patrick Kavanagh
Methought I saw my late espoused saint
Brought to me, like Alcestis, from the grave,
Chanson dAmour
© Gace Brulé
This absence from my own countrys
So long, it brings me to deaths door,
Summer And Winter
© Percy Bysshe Shelley
It was a bright and cheerful afternoon,
Towards the end of the sunny month of June,
When the north wind congregates in crowds
The floating mountains of the silver clouds
Leda and the Swan
© William Butler Yeats
A sudden blow: the great wings beating still
Above the staggering girl, her thighs caressed
By the dark webs, her nape caught in his bill,
He holds her helpless breast upon his breast.
A Satirical Elegy on the Death of a Late Famous General
© Jonathan Swift
His Grace! impossible! what dead!
Of old age too, and in his bed!
The Christ Of The Andes
© Edwin Markham
After volcanoes husht with snows,
Up where the wide-winged condor goes,
Great Aconcagua, husht and high,
Sends down the ancient peace of the sky.
The Princess: Ask me no more
© Alfred Tennyson
Ask me no more: the moon may draw the sea;
The cloud may stoop from heaven and take the shape,
With fold to fold, of mountain or of cape;
But O too fond, when have I answer'd thee?
Ask me no more.
Right Apprehension
© Thomas Traherne
Give but to things their true esteem,
And those which now so vile and worthless seem
