Pet poems
/ page 21 of 126 /Rubies
© Arthur Symons
There are nine rubles in this Indian ring,
And every blood-red ruby is a part
The Aeneid of Virgil: Book 1
© Publius Vergilius Maro
ARMS, and the man I sing, who, forcd by fate,
And haughty Junos unrelenting hate,
First Evening (Première Soirée)
© Arthur Rimbaud
Her clothes were almost off;
Outside, a curious tree
Beat a branch at the window
To see what it could see.
Romance
© Arthur Rimbaud
When you are seventeen you aren't really serious.
- One fine evening, you've had enough of beer and lemonade,
And the rowdy cafes with their dazzling lights!
- You go walking beneath the green lime trees of the promenade.
Some Of Farmer Stebbin's Opinions
© Isabella Valancy Crawford
No, Parson, 'tain't been in my style,
(Nor none ov my relations)
Sowing Seed
© Robert Laurence Binyon
As my hand dropt a seed
In the dibbled mould
And my mind hurried onward
To picture the miracle
June should unfold,
The Sylphs Of The Seasons
© Washington Allston
Long has it been my fate to hear
The slave of Mammon, with a sneer,
Amours De Voyage, Canto II
© Arthur Hugh Clough
P.S.
Mary has seen thus far.-I am really so angry, Louisa,-
Quite out of patience, my dearest! What can the man be intending?
I am quite tired; and Mary, who might bring him to in a moment,
Lets him go on as he likes, and neither will help nor dismiss him.
The Ring And The Book - Chapter I - The Ring And The Book
© Robert Browning
DO you see this Ring?
Tis Rome-work, made to match
Mary Lemaine
© Henry Lawson
She heard a few words, but those words were enough
The troopers were all on the track of Jim Duff.
The super, his rival, was planning a trap
To capture the scamp in Maginniss Gap.
Ive warned him before, and Ill do it again;
Ill save him to-night, whispered Mary Lemaine.
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.
La petite souris
© Maurice Rollinat
Crac! la voilà sur la planchette
A deux doigts du frêle ingénu!
Mais le chat noir est survenu:
Elle rentre dans sa cachette,
La petite souris blanchette.
Violets
© Robert Laurence Binyon
Violets, in what pleasant earth you grew
I know not, nor what heavenly moisture stole
To tincture in your petals such dim blue
As seems a pure June midnight's scented soul:
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.
A Pot of Red Lentils by Peter Pereira: American Life in Poetry #53 Ted Kooser, U.S. Poet Laureate 20
© Ted Kooser
In the yard we plant
rhubarb, cauliflower, and artichokes,
cupping wet earth over tubers,
our labor the germ
of later sustenance and renewal.
Yadwigha, On A Red Couch, Among Lillies
© Sylvia Plath
Yadwigha, the literalists once wondered how you
Came to be lying on this baroque couch
Upholstered in red velvet, under the eye
Of uncaged tigers and a tropical moon,
Set in intricate wilderness of green
Heart-shaped leaves, like catalpa leaves, and lillies
The Poet's Dead
© Mikhail Lermontov
He's slain - and taken by the grave
Like that unknown, but happy bard,
Victim of jealousy wild,
Of whom he sang with wondrous power,
Struck down, like him, by an unyielding hand.