Home poems
/ page 276 of 465 /My Last Afternoon with Uncle Devereux Winslow
© Robert Lowell
a black pile and a white pile....
Come winter,
Uncle Devereux would blend to the one color.
The Japanese Wife
© Charles Bukowski
O lord, he said, Japanese women,
real women, they have not forgotten,
What Is Flirtation?
© Wilcox Ella Wheeler
What is flirtation? Really,
How can I tell you that?
But when she smiles I see its wiles,
And when he lifts his hat.
The Angel In The House. Book I. Canto IV.
© Coventry Kersey Dighton Patmore
III Compensation
That nothing here may want its praise,
Know, she who in her dress reveals
A fine and modest taste, displays
More loveliness than she conceals.
You Say, Columbus with his Argosies
© Trumbull Stickney
You say, Columbus with his argosies
Who rash and greedy took the screaming main
The Anzac on the Wall
© Anonymous
Loitering in a country town, 'cos I had some time to spare
I went into an antique shop, to see what was there.
Bikes and pumps, and kero lamps, the old shop had it all,
then I was taken prisoner, by the Anzac on the wall.
From: Preludes for Memnon
© Conrad Aiken
Come dance around the compass
pointing north
Before, face downward, frozen,
we go forth.
The Mirror
© Robert Laurence Binyon
I
Where is all the beauty that hath been?
Where the bloom?
Dust on boundless wind? Grass dropt into fire?
A Monumental Column : A Funeral Elegy
© John Webster
To The Right Honourable Sir Robert Carr, Viscount Rochester, Knight of the Most Noble Order of the Garter, and One Of His Majesty's Most Honourable Privy Council.
The greatest of the kingly race is gone,
The West Wind
© William Cullen Bryant
Beneath the forest's skirts I rest,
Whose branching pines rise dark and high,
And hear the breezes of the West
Among the threaded foliage sigh.
The Sorcerer: Act II
© William Schwenck Gilbert
Scene-Exterior of Sir Marmaduke's mansion by moonlight. All the
peasantry are discovered asleep on the ground, as at the end
of Act I.
Well, You Needn’t
© William Matthews
Rather than hold his hands properly
arched off the keys, like cats
with their backs up,
Monk, playing block chords,
hit the keys with his fingertips well
above his wrists,
A Pastoral Ballad. In Four Parts
© William Shenstone
Arbusta humilesque myrciae. ~ Virg.
Explanation.
Groves and lovely shrubs.
The Foot-Path
© James Russell Lowell
It mounts athwart the windy hill
Through sallow slopes of upland bare,
And Fancy climbs with foot-fall still
Its narrowing curves that end in air.
The Dwellers Within
© George MacDonald
Down a warm alley, early in the year,
Among the woods, with all the sunshine in
Australia To England
© John Farrell
What of the years of Englishmen?
What have they brought of growth and grace
An Essay on Criticism: Part 1
© Alexander Pope
But you who seek to give and merit fame,
And justly bear a critic's noble name,
Be sure your self and your own reach to know,
How far your genius, taste, and learning go;
Launch not beyond your depth, but be discreet,
And mark that point where sense and dulness meet.