Home poems
/ page 133 of 465 /
The Lee Shore
© Thomas Hood
Sleet! and hail! and thunder!
And ye winds that rave,
Till the sands there under
Tinge the sullen wave --
My Playmate
© John Greenleaf Whittier
The pines were dark on Ramoth hill,
Their song was soft and low;
The blossoms in the sweet May wind
Were falling like the snow.
The Borough. Letter XIII: The Alms-House And Trustees
© George Crabbe
feel.
Three seats were vacant while Sir Denys reign'd,
And three such favourites their admission gain'd;
These let us view, still more to understand
The moral feelings of Sir Denys Brand.
Ballad Of Jesus Of Nazareth
© Edgar Lee Masters
It matters not what place he drew
At first life's mortal breath,
Some say it was in Bethlehem,
And some in Nazareth.
But shame and sorrow were his lot
And shameful was his death.
Champlain
© William Henry Drummond
If you want to fin' w'at is lef' behin'
Of de story I try very hard tell you,
Don't bodder me now or raise de row,
But study de book de sam' I do.
Swimming With A Hundred Year Old Snapping Turtle by Freya Manfred: American Life in Poetry #113 Ted
© Ted Kooser
American Life in Poetry is made possible by The Poetry Foundation (www.poetryfoundation.org), publisher of Poetry magazine. It is also supported by the Department of English at the University of Nebraska-Lincoln. Reprinted by permission of Freya Manfred, whose most recent book is My Only Home, 2003, from Red Dragonfly Press. Poem copyright © 2006 by Freya Manfred. Introduction copyright © 2009 by The Poetry Foundation. The introduction's author, Ted Kooser, served as United States Poet Laureate Consultant in Poetry to the Library of Congress from 2004-2006. We do not accept unsolicited manuscripts.
The Feud: A Border Ballad
© Adam Lindsay Gordon
They sat by their wine in the tavern that night,
But not in good fellowship true:
The Rhenish was strong and the Burgundy bright,
And hotter the argument grew.
Foolish Children
© George MacDonald
Waking in the night to pray,
Sleeping when the answer comes,
Foolish are we even at play-
Tearfully we beat our drums!
Cast the good dry bread away,
Weep, and gather up the crumbs!
The Red-Tressed Maiden
© Roderic Quinn
RED she is in a robe of sable,
Rosy with pictures and tales to tell:
She is a fairy, and yet no fable,
Weaving the dreams that we love so well.
I never felt at HomeBelow
© Emily Dickinson
I never felt at HomeBelow-
And in the Handsome Skies
I shall not feel at HomeI know
I don't like Paradise
Stanzas: When A Man Hath No Freedom
© George Gordon Byron
When a man hath no freedom to fight for at home,
Let him combat for that of his neighbours;
The Ploughman
© Oliver Wendell Holmes
CLEAR the brown path, to meet his coulter's gleam!
Lo! on he comes, behind his smoking team,
With toil's bright dew-drops on his sunburnt brow,
The lord of earth, the hero of the plough!
Breathes There the Man... From the Lay of the Last Minstrel
© Sir Walter Scott
Breathes there the man, with soul so dead,
Who never to himself hath said,
Body And Soul: A Metaphysical Argument
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
Man openeth the case
Body, from the arrogance
Of the Soul thou seekest shield,
Makest prayer the old mis--chance
A Christmas Carol
© Edgar Albert Guest
God bless you all this Christmas Day
And drive the cares and griefs away.
Oh, may the shining Bethlehem star
Which led the wise men from afar
Upon your heads, good sirs, still glow
To light the path that ye should go.
Lovers At The Lake Side
© Jean Ingelow
'And you brought him home.' 'I did, ay Ronald, it rested with me.'
'Love!' 'Yes.' 'I would fain you were not so calm.' 'I cannot weep. No.'
'What is he like, your poor father?' 'He is-like-this fallen tree
Prone at our feet, by the still lake taking on rose from the glow,
A Dirge
© Edith Nesbit
LET Summer go
To other gardens; here we have no need of her.
She smiles and beckons, but we take no heed of her,
Who love not Summer, but bare boughs and snow,
