Home poems
/ page 258 of 465 /The Triumph of Time
© Algernon Charles Swinburne
Before our lives divide for ever,
While time is with us and hands are free,
The Amenities
© Heather McHugh
I owe you an explanation.
My first memory isn’t your own
of an empty box. My babyhood cabinets held
a countlessness of cakes, my backyard
rotted into apple glut, windfalls of
money-tree, mouthfuls of fib.
Sir Peter Harpdon's End
© William Morris
John Curzon
Of those three prisoners, that before you came
We took down at St. John's hard by the mill,
Two are good masons; we have tools enough,
And you have skill to set them working.
Lines On A Sleeping Child
© Frances Anne Kemble
O child! who to this evil world art come,
Led by the unseen hand of Him who guards thee,
This Evening Also
© Paul Celan
more fully,
since snow fell even on this
sun-drifted, sun-drenched sea,
blossoms the ice in those baskets
you carry into town.
To Frank Parker
© Robert Lowell
Forty years ago we were here
where we are now,
the same erotic May-wind blew
the trees from there to here—
To The Rev. Mr. Newton, On His Return From Ramsgate
© William Cowper
That ocean you have late surveyed,
Those rocks I too have seen;
But I, afflicted and dismayed,
You tranquil and serene.
Old Bones
© Gary Snyder
Out there walking round, looking out for food,
a rootstock, a birdcall, a seed that you can crack
Fand, A Feerie Act III
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
[She looks towards the sea.
Attendant. None.
The sea mist drives too thickly.
Banjo Dog Variations
© Donald Justice
Agriculture and Industry
Embraced in public on a wall
Heroes in shirt-sleeves! Next to them
The average man felt small.
from The Task, Book II: The Time-Piece
© William Cowper
(excerpt)
England, with all thy faults, I love thee still
Cape Cod
© George Santayana
The low sandy beach and the thin scrub pine,
The wide reach of bay and the long sky line,
O, I am sick for home!
The Banks Of Wye - Book III
© Robert Bloomfield
PEACE to your white-wall'd cots, ye vales,
Untainted fly your summer gales;
Julian and Maddalo
© Percy Bysshe Shelley
As thus I spoke
Servants announc'd the gondola, and we
Through the fast-falling rain and high-wrought sea
Sail'd to the island where the madhouse stands.
Elegy in a Country Churchyard
© Gilbert Keith Chesterton
The men that worked for England
They have their graves at home:
And bees and birds of England
About the cross can roam.
The Song of the Banjo
© Rudyard Kipling
With my ‘Pilly-willy-winky-winky-popp!’
[Oh, it’s any tune that comes into my head!]
So I keep ’em moving forward till they drop;
So I play ’em up to water and to bed.