Pet poems

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In Summer

© Madison Julius Cawein

When in dry hollows, hilled with hay,

The vesper-sparrow sings afar;

I KNOW that I'm like, yet I am not, a snake!
'Tis true that I glisten by boil and by brake,
That I dart out and in, can glide, quiver and coil
As swift as the lightning, but softer than oil,
Yet a creature more innocent never was drawn
From the gray of cool shadows to bask in the dawn!

Jubilate Agno: Fragment B, Part 2

© Christopher Smart

LET PETER rejoice with the MOON FISH who keeps up the life in the waters by night.

Let Andrew rejoice with the Whale, who is array'd in beauteous blue and is a combination of bulk and activity.

Dow's Flat

© Francis Bret Harte

Dow's Flat. That's its name;
And I reckon that you
Are a stranger? The same?
Well, I thought it was true,--
For thar isn't a man on the river as can't spot the place at first
view.

The Botanic Garden (Part VI)

© Erasmus Darwin

"Born in yon blaze of orient sky,
"Sweet MAY! thy radiant form unfold;
"Unclose thy blue voluptuous eye,
"And wave thy shadowy locks of gold.

On Clergymen Preaching Politics

© John Byrom

Indeed, Sir Peter, I could wish, I own,
That parsons would let politics alone;
Plead, if they will, the customary plea,
For such like talk, when o'er the dish of tea:
But when they tease us with it from the pulpit,
I own, Sir Peter, that I cannot help it.

An Inventor

© Augusta Davies Webster

I thought this time 'twas done at last,
the workings perfected, the life in it;
and there's the flaw again, the petty flaw,
the fretting small impossibility
that has to be made possible.

Ode To Joy -- With Translation

© Johann Christoph Friedrich Von Schiller

Was den grossen Ring bewohnet,
Huldige der Sympathie!
Zu den Sternen leitet sie,
Wo der Unbekannte thronet.

Chomei At Toyama

© Basil Bunting

Swirl sleeping in the waterfall!
On motionless pools scum appearing
disappearing!

Die Unbekannte

© Heinrich Heine

My golden-haired beauty,
Im always sure of seeing,
In the Tuileries Gardens,
Under the chestnut trees.

Childe Harold's Pilgrimage: A Romaunt. Canto IV.

© George Gordon Byron

I.

I stood in Venice, on the Bridge of Sighs;

Thompson Of Angels

It is the story of Thompson--of Thompson, the hero of Angels.
Frequently drunk was Thompson, but always polite to the stranger;
Light and free was the touch of Thompson upon his revolver;
Great the mortality incident on that lightness and freedom.