Great poems
/ page 33 of 549 /Jesu
© George Herbert
Jesu is in my heart, his sacred name
Is deeply carved there; but th' other week
Tied Down
© Edgar Albert Guest
"They tie you down," a woman said,
Whose cheeks should have been flaming red
Tale IX
© George Crabbe
course,"
Replied the Youth; "but has it power to force?
Unless it forces, call it as you will,
It is but wish, and proneness to the ill."
"Art thou not tempted?"--"Do I fall?" said
A Meeting Of The Birds
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
OF a thousand queer meetings, both great, sir, and small
The bird-party I sing of seemed oddest of all!
How they come to assemble--a multiform show--
From all parts of the earth, is--well--more than I know.
Tombs
© Kostas Karyotakis
Helen S. Lamari, 1878-1912
Poet and musician.
Died with the most frightful pains of the body
and with the greatest calm of the spirit.
ATHENIAN CEMETERY
What the Frost Casts Up by Ed Ochester: American Life in Poetry #150 Ted Kooser, U.S. Poet Laureate
© Ted Kooser
There's a world of great interest and significance right under our feet, but most of us don't think to look down. We spend most of our time peering off into the future, speculating on how we will deal with whatever is coming our way. Or dwelling on the past. Here Ed Ochester stops in the middle of life to look down.
What the Frost Casts Up
Roly Poly
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
ROLY POLY'S just awakened,
Wakened in his cosy bed,
All his dainty ringlets tumbled
O'er his shoulders, and his head:
Dancing Adairs
© Conrad Aiken
Behold me, in my chiffon, gauze, and tinsel,
Flitting out of the shadow into the spotlight,
And into the shadow again, without a whisper!-
Firefly's my name, I am evanescent.
Sed Non Satiata (Unslakeable Lust)
© Charles Baudelaire
Bizarre déité, brune comme les nuits,
Au parfum mélangé de musc et de havane,
Oeuvre de quelque obi, le Faust de la savane,
Sorcière au flanc d'ébène, enfant des noirs minuits,
Songs Set To Music: 5. Set By Mr. De Fesch
© Matthew Prior
Let perjured fair Amynta know
What for her sake I undergo;
Tell her, for her how I sustain
A lingering fever's wasting pain;
Tell her the torments I endure,
Which only, only she can cure.
The Progress Of The Rose
© Denis Florence MacCarthy
The days of old, the good old days,
Whose misty memories haunt us still,
Demand alike our blame and praise,
And claim their shares of good and ill.
An Apology For My Son To His Master, For Not Bringing An Exercise On The Coronation Day.
© Mary Barber
Why are we Scholars plagu'd to write,
On Days devoted to Delight?
In Honour of the King, I'd play
Upon his Coronation Day:
But as for Loyalty in Rhyme,
Defer that to another Time.
Summum Bonum
© Louise Imogen Guiney
Thanks to His love let earth and man dispense
In smoke of worship when the heart is stillest,
A praying more than prayer: "Great good have I,
Till it be greater good to lay it by;
Nor can I lose peace, power, permanence,
For these smile on me from the thing Thou willest!"
Vaunting Oak
© John Crowe Ransom
He is a tower unleaning. But how hell break
If Heaven assault him with full wind and sleet,
And what uproar tall trees concumbent make!
Old Cambridge
© Oliver Wendell Holmes
AND can it be you've found a place
Within this consecrated space,
Satyr XII. The Test Of Poetry
© Thomas Parnell
Much have I writt, says Bavius, Mankind knows
By my quick printing how my fancy flows:
Bega
© Marjorie Lowry Christie Pickthall
FROM the clouded belfry calling,
Hear my soft ascending swells;