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Roman Elegies
© Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
Then would the world be no world, then would e'en Rome be no Rome.
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Do not repent, mine own love, that thou so soon didst surrender
On The Death Of Princess Borghese, At Rome ,November, 1840
© Richard Monckton Milnes
Once, and but once again I dare to raise
A voice which thou in spirit still may'st hear,
Now that thy bridal bed becomes a bier,
Now that thou canst not blush at thine own praise!
A Pier-Head Chorus
© John Masefield
Oh I'll be chewing salted horse and biting flinty bread,
And dancing with the stars to watch, upon the fo'c's'le head,
Hearkening to the bow-wash and the welter of the tread
Of a thousand tons of clipper running free.
A Christmas Fancy
© Robert Fuller Murray
Early on Christmas Day,
Love, as awake I lay,
And heard the Christmas bells ring sweet and clearly,
My heart stole through the gloom
Into your silent room,
And whispered to your heart, `I love you dearly.'
Man Overboard
© Katharine Lee Bates
YOUNG, the naked stoker who went
Mad with the fires and leapt to the sea,
Two Visits To A Grave
© Richard Monckton Milnes
I stood by the grave of one beloved,
On a chill and windless night,--
When not a blade of grass was moved,
In its rigid sheath of white.
To Mr. Addison on His Tragedy of Cato
© Thomas Tickell
Too long hath love engross'd Britannia's stage,
And sunk to softness all our tragic rage:
Orpheus
© Emma Lazarus
ORPHEUS.
LAUGHTER and dance, and sounds of harp and lyre,
Piping of flutes, singing of festal songs,
Ribbons of flame from flaunting torches, dulled
The Song
© Lola Ridge
That day, in the slipping of torsos and straining flanks
on the bloodied ooze of fields plowed by the iron,
When The Great Gray Ships Come In
© Guy Wetmore Carryl
To eastward ringing, to westward winging, o'er mapless miles of sea,
On winds and tides the gospel rides that the furthermost isles are free;
The Lady of the Lake: Canto VI. - The Guardroom
© Sir Walter Scott
Our vicar still preaches that Peter and Poule
Laid a swinging long curse on the bonny brown bowl,
That there 's wrath and despair in the jolly black-jack,
And the seven deadly sins in a flagon of sack;
Yet whoop, Barnaby! off with thy liquor,
Drink upsees out, and a fig for the vicar!
Writin' Back To The Home-Folks
© James Whitcomb Riley
My dear old friends--It jes beats all,
The way you write a letter
Soul Ferry
© Richard Rowe
High and dry upon the shingle lies the fisher's boat to-night;
From his roof-beam dankly drooping, raying phosphorescent light,
Spectral in its pale-blue splendour, hangs his heap of scaly nets,
And the fisher, lapt in slumber, surge and seine alike forgets.
Little Kids
© Wilcox Ella Wheeler
'Little kids,' you call us
As we are at play.
You were little children
Just the other day.
One Day And Another: A Lyrical Eclogue Part III
© Madison Julius Cawein
I seem to see her still; to see
That dim blue room. Her perfume comes
From lavender folds draped dreamily--
One blossom of brocaded blooms--
Some stuff of orient looms.
To Aunt Rose
© Allen Ginsberg
Aunt Rose
Hitler is dead, Hitler is in Eternity; Hitler is with
Tamburlane and Emily Brontë
April
© Archibald Lampman
Pale season, watcher in unvexed suspense,
Still priestess of the patient middle day,
