Mom poems

/ page 209 of 212 /

Order by :

The Landlord's Tale; Paul Revere's Ride

© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Listen my children and you shall hear
Of the midnight ride of Paul Revere,
On the eighteenth of April, in Seventy-five;
Hardly a man is now alive
Who remembers that famous day and year.

One Christmas was so much like another, in those years around the sea-town corner now and out of all sound
except the distant speaking of the voices I sometimes hear a moment before sleep, that I can never remember
whether it snowed for six days and six nights when I was twelve or whether it snowed for twelve days and twelve
nights when I was six.

Witchcraft has not a Pedigree

© Emily Dickinson

Witchcraft has not a Pedigree
'Tis early as our Breath
And mourners meet it going out
The moment of our death --

What Twigs We held by --

© Emily Dickinson

What Twigs We held by --
Oh the View
When Life's swift River striven through
We pause before a further plunge
To take Momentum --
As the Fringe

Were natural mortal lady

© Emily Dickinson

Were natural mortal lady
Who had so little time
To pack her trunk and order
The great exchange of clime --

We do not know the time we lose --

© Emily Dickinson

We do not know the time we lose --
The awful moment is
And takes its fundamental place
Among the certainties --

Tho' I get home how late -- how late

© Emily Dickinson

To think just how the fire will burn --
Just how long-cheated eyes will turn --
To wonder what myself will say,
And what itself, will say to me --
Beguiles the Centuries of way!

The Summer that we did not prize,

© Emily Dickinson

The Summer that we did not prize,
Her treasures were so easy
Instructs us by departing now
And recognition lazy --

Oh Sumptuous moment

© Emily Dickinson

Oh Sumptuous moment
Slower go
That I may gloat on thee --
'Twill never be the same to starve
Now I abundance see --

It would never be Common -- more -- I said

© Emily Dickinson

It would never be Common -- more -- I said --
Difference -- had begun --
Many a bitterness -- had been --
But that old sort -- was done --

It rises -- passes -- on our South

© Emily Dickinson

It rises -- passes -- on our South
Inscribes a simple Noon --
Cajoles a Moment with the Spires
And infinite is gone --

It knew no Medicine --

© Emily Dickinson

It knew no Medicine --
It was not Sickness -- then --
Nor any need of Surgery --
And therefore -- 'twas not Pain --

It always felt to me -- a wrong

© Emily Dickinson

It always felt to me -- a wrong
To that Old Moses -- done --
To let him see -- the Canaan --
Without the entering --

In thy long Paradise of Light

© Emily Dickinson

In thy long Paradise of Light
No moment will there be
When I shall long for Earthly Play
And mortal Company --

If any sink, assure that this, now standing

If any sink, assure that this, now standing --
Failed like Themselves -- and conscious that it rose --
Grew by the Fact, and not the Understanding
How Weakness passed -- or Force -- arose --

I know of people in the Grave

I know of people in the Grave
Who would be very glad
To know the news I know tonight
If they the chance had had.

I could die -- to know --

I could die -- to know --
'Tis a trifling knowledge --
News-Boys salute the Door --
Carts -- joggle by --
Morning's bold face -- stares in the window --
Were but mine -- the Charter of the least Fly --