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Palinode-December
© James Russell Lowell
Like some lorn abbey now, the wood
Stands roofless in the bitter air;
In ruins on its floor is strewed
The carven foliage quaint and rare,
And homeless winds complain along
The columned choir once thrilled with song.
The Sisters' Tragedy
© Thomas Bailey Aldrich
Both were young, in life's rich summer yet;
And one was dark, with tints of violet
In hair and eyes, and one was blond as she
Who rose-a second daybreak-from the sea,
Gold-tressed and azure-eyed. In that lone place,
Like dusk and dawn, they sat there face to face.
The Life of Lincoln West
© Gwendolyn Brooks
Ugliest little boy
that everyone ever saw.
That is what everyone said.
Crusoe in England
© Elizabeth Bishop
A new volcano has erupted,
the papers say, and last week I was reading
Golden Gully
© Henry Lawson
No one lives in Golden Gully, for its golden days are oer,
And its clay shall never sully blucher-boots of diggers more,
A Voice From The Bush
© Anonymous
High noon, and not a cloud in the sky
To break this blinding sun.
Well, I've half the day before me still,
And most of my journey done.
Swiss Song, On The Anniversary Of An Ancient Battle
© Felicia Dorothea Hemans
Look on the white Alps round!
If yet they gird a land
Where freedom's voice and step are found,
Forget ye not the band,
The faithful band, our sires, who fell
Here, in the narrow battle-dell!
Sydney Cove, 1788
© Roderic Quinn
SHE sat on the rocks, her fireless eyes
Teased and tired with the thoughts of yore;
And paining her sense were alien skies,
An alien sea and an alien shore.
Signs
© Larry Levis
2.
And this evening in the garden
I find the winter
inside a snail shell, rigid and
cool, a little stubborn temple,
its one visitor gone.
O' Lyric Love
© Robert Browning
O' Lyric Love, half angel and half bird,
And all a wonder and a wild desire,-
An Old Tale Re-Told
© Madison Julius Cawein
Well, the laughter of Yule was turned to tears
For them and for us. We saw the glare
Of torches that hurried from chamber to stair;
And we heard the castle re-echo her name,
But neither to them nor to us she came.
And that was the last of Clara of Clare.
Everyday Characters III - The Belle Of The Ball Room
© Winthrop Mackworth Praed
YEARS, years ago, ere yet my dreams
Had been of being wise and witty;
A Vagabond
© James Tate
Well, if it’s permitted, then
let’s regulate him, let’s testify
against his thimble, and moderate his gloves
before they sew an apron.
Sunflower Sutra
© Allen Ginsberg
I walked on the banks of the tincan banana dock and sat down under the huge shade of a Southern Pacific locomotive to look at the sunset over the box house hills and cry.
Jack Kerouac sat beside me on a busted rusty iron pole, companion, we thought the same thoughts of the soul, bleak and blue and sad-eyed, surrounded by the gnarled steel roots of trees of machinery.
The Girl with Bees in Her Hair
© Hugo Williams
came in an envelope with no return address;
she was small, wore wrinkled dress of figured
Satire IV
© John Donne
Well; I may now receive, and die. My sin
Indeed is great, but yet I have been in
Constancy to an Ideal Object
© Samuel Taylor Coleridge
Since all that beat about in Nature's range,
Or veer or vanish; why should'st thou remain
The Shipwreck Of Idomeneus
© George Meredith
Amid the din of elemental strife,
No voice may pierce but Deity supreme:
And Deity supreme alone can hear,
Above the hurricane's discordant shrieks,
The cry of agonized humanity.
