Mom poems
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Can a kiss be sweeter? (Canti di Milosao, excerpt from canto IV)
© Jeronim de Rada
It was Sunday morning
And the son of the noble matron
The Cloud Messenger - Part 01
© Kalidasa
A certain yaksha who had been negligent in the execution of his own duties,
on account of a curse from his master which was to be endured for a year and
which was onerous as it separated him from his beloved, made his residence
among the hermitages of Ramagiri, whose waters were blessed by the bathing
of the daughter of Janaka1 and whose shade trees grew in profusion.
A Treatise On Poetry: IV Natura
© Czeslaw Milosz
The garden of Nature opens.
The grass at the threshold is green.
And an almond tree begins to bloom.
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,
A Song Of Love
© Virna Sheard
Love reckons not by time--its May days of delight
Are swifter than the falling stars that pass beyond our sight.
The Rough Little Rascal
© Edgar Albert Guest
A smudge on his nose and a smear on his cheek
And knees that might not have been washed in a week;
A bump on his forehead, a scar on his lip,
A relic of many a tumble and trip:
A rough little, tough little rascal, but sweet,
Is he that each evening I'm eager to meet.
The Old Cumberland Beggar
© William Wordsworth
. I saw an aged Beggar in my walk;
And he was seated, by the highway side,
Boy and Egg by Naomi Shihab Nye: American Life in Poetry #30 Ted Kooser, U.S. Poet Laureate 2004-200
© Ted Kooser
Naomi Shihab Nye lives in San Antonio, Texas. Here she perfectly captures a moment in childhood that nearly all of us may remember: being too small for the games the big kids were playing, and fastening tightly upon some little thing of our own.
Queen Mab: Part II.
© Percy Bysshe Shelley
If solitude hath ever led thy steps
To the wild ocean's echoing shore,
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.
The Warrior's Return
© Amelia Opie
Sir Walter returned from the far Holy Land,
And a blood-tinctured falchion he bore;
But such precious blood as now darkened his sword
Had never distained it before.
Unknown Country
© Harold Monro
Here, in this other world, they come and go
With easy dream-like movements to and fro.
Marmion: Canto V. - The Court
© Sir Walter Scott
Oh! young Lochinvar is come out of the west,
Through all the wide Border his steed was the best;
And save his good broadsword, he weapons had none,
He rode all unarmed, and he rode all alone;
So faithful in love, and so dauntless in war,
There never was knight like the young Lochinvar.
Les Phares (The Beacons)
© Charles Baudelaire
Rubens, fleuve d'oubli, jardin de la paresse,
Oreiller de chair fraîche où l'on ne peut aimer,
Mais où la vie afflue et s'agite sans cesse,
Comme l'air dans le ciel et la mer dans la mer;
An Ode - Inscribed To The Memory Of The Hon. Colonel George Villiers
© Matthew Prior
For restless Proserpine for ever treads
In paths unseen, o'er our devoted heads,
And on the spacious land and liquid main
Spreads slow disease, or darts afflictive pain:
Variety of deaths confirms her endless reign.
Sonnet - Scottish Border
© James Russell Lowell
As sinks the sun behind yon alien hills
Whose heather-purple slopes, in glory rolled,
The Will O' The Wisp
© Annie Campbell Huestis
THE Will-o'-the-Wisp is out on the marsh,
And all alone he goes;
There's not a sight of his glimmering light
From break of day to close;
But all night long, from dusk till dawn,
He drifts where the night wind blows.
The Loving Shepherdess
© Robinson Jeffers
She dreamed that a two-legged whiff of flame
Rose up from the house gable-peak crying, "Oh! Oh!"
And doubled in the middle and fled away on the wind
Like music above the bee-hives.
