Men poems

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Sonnet LXXVIII

© William Shakespeare

So oft have I invoked thee for my Muse
And found such fair assistance in my verse
As every alien pen hath got my use
And under thee their poesy disperse.

Sonnet LXIX

© William Shakespeare

Those parts of thee that the world's eye doth view
Want nothing that the thought of hearts can mend;
All tongues, the voice of souls, give thee that due,
Uttering bare truth, even so as foes commend.

Le Malade

© André Marie de Chénier

'Apollon, dieu sauveur, dieu des savants mystères,

Dieu de la vie, et dieu des plantes salutaires,

Sonnet LIX

© William Shakespeare

If there be nothing new, but that which is
Hath been before, how are our brains beguiled,
Which, labouring for invention, bear amiss
The second burden of a former child!

Eureka - A Prose Poem

© Edgar Allan Poe

EUREKA:

AN ESSAY ON THE MATERIAL AND SPIRITUAL UNIVERSE

Ave Maria

© Alfred Austin

In the ages of Faith, before the day

When men were too proud to weep or pray,

Sonnet CIII

© William Shakespeare

Alack, what poverty my Muse brings forth,
That having such a scope to show her pride,
The argument all bare is of more worth
Than when it hath my added praise beside!

Friendship Broken

© Louise Imogen Guiney

Mine was the mood that shows the dearest face
Thro' a long avenue, and voices kind
Idle, and indeterminate, and blind

An Octopus

© Marianne Clarke Moore

of ice. Deceptively reserved and flat,

it lies "in grandeur and in mass"

Sonnet 78: So oft have I invoked thee for my Muse

© William Shakespeare

So oft have I invoked thee for my Muse,
And found such fair assistance in my verse
As every alien pen hath got my use,
And under thee their poesy disperse.

Sonnet 69: Those parts of thee that the world's eye doth view

© William Shakespeare

Those parts of thee that the world's eye doth view
Want nothing that the thought of hearts can mend;
All tongues, the voice of souls, give thee that due,
Utt'ring bare truth, even so as foes commend.

Sonnet 59: If there be nothing new, but that which is

© William Shakespeare

If there be nothing new, but that which is
Hath been before, how are our brains beguiled,
Which, labouring for invention bear amis
The second burthen of a former child!

The Problem

© Henry Timrod

Not to win thy favor, maiden, not to steal away thy heart,

Have I ever sought thy presence, ever stooped to any art;

Whereat he rose.
The level wind carried above the firs
Clouds, the irrevocable travellers,
Onward.

the eyes that haunt me

© Rg Gregory

there are eyes that refuse to exist
in the fresh air - they are invented
by the lies of paint or make their mark
in a memory that had a truth
to feed on but only by distortion