Pet poems

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Rubies

© Arthur Symons

There are nine rubles in this Indian ring,

And every blood-red ruby is a part

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The Aeneid of Virgil: Book 1

© Publius Vergilius Maro

ARMS, and the man I sing, who, forc’d by fate,  

And haughty Juno’s unrelenting hate,  

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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.

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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.

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Some Of Farmer Stebbin's Opinions

© Isabella Valancy Crawford

No, Parson, 'tain't been in my style,

  (Nor none ov my relations)

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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,

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The Sylphs Of The Seasons

© Washington Allston

Long has it been my fate to hear

The slave of Mammon, with a sneer,

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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.

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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

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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 Maginnis’s Gap.
‘I’ve warned him before, and I’ll do it again;—
I’ll save him to-night,’ whispered Mary Lemaine.

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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.

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Peter the Piccaninny

© Henry Kendall

I never loved a nigger belle—
 My tastes are too aesthetic!
The perfume from a gin is—well,
 A rather strong emetic.

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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.

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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:

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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.

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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.

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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

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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.

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The Garden

© Lola Ridge

Bountiful Givers,

I look along the years