Home poems
/ page 72 of 465 /Flowers in Winter: Painted Upon a Porte Livre.
© John Greenleaf Whittier
How strange to greet, this frosty morn,
In graceful counterfeit of flower,
These children of the meadows, born
Of sunshine and of showers!
Peter the Piccaninny
© Henry Kendall
I never loved a nigger belle
My tastes are too aesthetic!
The perfume from a gin iswell,
A rather strong emetic.
Gotham - Book II
© Charles Churchill
How much mistaken are the men who think
That all who will, without restraint may drink,
Ovid In Exile, At Tomis, In Bessarabia, Near The Mouths Of The Danube
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Deep lies the snow, and neither the sun nor the rain can dissolve
it;
Boreas hardens it still, makes it forever remain.
To A Departed Spirit
© Felicia Dorothea Hemans
From the bright stars, or from the viewless air,
Or from some world unreached by human thought,
Spirit, sweet spirit! if thy home be there,
And if thy visions with the past be fraught,
Answer me, answer me!
Going Home
© Marjorie Lowry Christie Pickthall
UNDER the young moon's slender shield
With the wind's cool lips on mine,
I went home from the Rabitty Field
As the clocks were striking nine.
A Summer's Night
© Paul Laurence Dunbar
THE night is dewy as a maiden's mouth,
The skies are bright as are a maiden's eyes,
A Spirit's Return
© Felicia Dorothea Hemans
Thou knewest me not in life's fresh vernal morn -
I would thou hadst! - for then my heart on thine
Had poured a worthier love; now, all o'erworn
By its deep thirst for something too divine,
It hath but fitful music to bestow,
Echoes of harp-strings broken long ago.
The Driftwood Gatherers
© Robert Laurence Binyon
Along the deep shelve of the abandoned shore
Bowed, with slow pace and careful eyes that keep
The track they travel, move an aged pair.
The full voice of the Atlantic holds the air
Maha-Bharata, The Epic Of Ancient India - Book IV - Dyuta - (The Fatal Dice)
© Romesh Chunder Dutt
The madness increased, and Yudhishthir staked his brothers, and then
himself, and then the fair Draupadi, and lost! And thus the Emperor
of Indra-prastha and his family were deprived of every possession
on earth, and became the bond-slaves of Duryodhan. The old king
Dhrita-rashtra released them from actual slavery, but the five
brothers retired to forests as homeless exiles.
Porphyrion
© Robert Laurence Binyon
Yet into vacancy the troubled heart
Brings its own fullness: and Porphyrion found
The void a prison, and in the silence chains.
I Mustn't Forget
© Edgar Albert Guest
I mustn't forget that I'm gettin' old,
That's the worst thing ever a man can do.
The Fool Of The World: A Morality
© Arthur Symons
THE MAN. THE WORM.
DEATH, as the Fool, YOUTH.
THE SPADE. MIDDLE AGE.
THE COFFIN. OLD AGE.
Breitmann In Battle
© Charles Godfrey Leland
I DINKS I'll go a vightin'" - outshpoke der Breitemann.
"It's eighdeen hoonderd fordy-eight since I kits swordt in hand;
Dese fourdeen years mit Hecker all roostin' I haf been,
Boot now I kicks der Teufel oop and goes for sailin' in."
What The Wind Said
© James Whitcomb Riley
'I muse to-day, in a listless way,
In the gleam of a summer land;
I close my eyes as a lover may
At the touch of his sweetheart's hand,
And I hear these things in the whisperings
Of the zephyrs round me fanned':--
Unknown Country
© Harold Monro
Here, in this other world, they come and go
With easy dream-like movements to and fro.