Men poems
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Paradise Lost : Book X.
© John Milton
Mean while the heinous and despiteful act
Of Satan, done in Paradise; and how
Friendships Mystery, To my Dearest Lucasia
© Katherine Philips
Come, my Lucasia, since we see
That Miracles Mens faith do move,
By wonder and by prodigy
To the dull angry world lets prove
Theres a Religion in our Love.
Die Liebe
© Gotthold Ephraim Lessing
Ohne Liebe
Lebe, wer da kann.
Wenn er auch ein Mensch schon bliebe,
Bleibt er doch kein Mann.
The Hunting of the Snark
© Lewis Carroll
"Just the place for a Snark!" the Bellman cried,
As he landed his crew with care;
Supporting each man on the top of the tide
By a finger entwined in his hair.
A Madona Poesia (To My Lady of Poetry)
© Alfonsina Storni
AQUI a tus pies lanzada, pecadora,
contra tu tierra azul, mi cara oscura,
tú, virgen entre ejércitos de palmas
que no encanecen como los humanos.
How She Bowed to her Brother
© Gertrude Stein
The story of how she bowed to her brother.
Who has whom as his.
The Death of Allegory
© Billy Collins
I am wondering what became of all those tall abstractions
that used to pose, robed and statuesque, in paintings
and parade about on the pages of the Renaissance
displaying their capital letters like license plates.
from The Testament of John Lydgate
© John Lydgate
Beholde, o man! lyft up thyn eye and see
What mortall peyne I suffre for thi trespace.
On Giving and Taking
© Khalil Gibran
Once there lived a man who had a valley-full of needles. And one
day the mother of Jesus came to him and said: "Friend, my son's
garment is torn and I must needs mend it before he goeth to the
temple. Wouldst thou not give me a needle?"
“Actuarial File”
© Jean Valentine
Orange peels, burned letters, the car lights shining on the grass,
everything goes somewhere—and everything we do—nothing
ever disappears. But changes. The roar of the sun in photographs.
Inching shorelines. Ice lines. The cells of our skin; our meetings,
our solitudes. Our eyes.
"Why art thou silent! Is thy love a plant"
© André Breton
Why art thou silent! Is thy love a plant
Of such weak fibre that the treacherous air
Shame
© C. K. Williams
A girl who, in 1971, when I was living by myself, painfully lonely, bereft, depressed,
offhandedly mentioned to me in a conversation with some friends that although at first she’d found me—
Ned Connor
© Charles Harpur
TWAS nightand where a watery sound
Came moaning up the Flat,
Six rude and bearded stockmen round
Their blazing hut-fire sat,
And laughed as on some starting hound
The cracking fuel spat.
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.
Fishing
© Paul Laurence Dunbar
Wen I git up in de mo'nin' an' de clouds is big an' black,
Dey's a kin' o' wa'nin' shivah goes a-scootin' down my back;
Den I says to my ol' ooman ez I watches down de lane,
"Don't you so't o' reckon, Lizy, dat we gwine to have some rain?"
Different Ways to Pray
© Naomi Shihab Nye
And occasionally there would be one
who did none of this,
the old man Fowzi, for example, Fowzi the fool,
who beat everyone at dominoes,
insisted he spoke with God as he spoke with goats,
and was famous for his laugh.
The View from an Attic Window
© Howard Nemerov
for Francis and Barbara
1
Among the high-branching, leafless boughs
Above the roof-peaks of the town,
Snowflakes unnumberably come down.
Fand, A Feerie Act III
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
[She looks towards the sea.
Attendant. None.
The sea mist drives too thickly.
The Banks Of Wye - Book III
© Robert Bloomfield
PEACE to your white-wall'd cots, ye vales,
Untainted fly your summer gales;
