Pet poems
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Towns in Colour
© Amy Lowell
I Red Slippers
Red slippers in a shop-window, and outside in the street, flaws of grey, windy sleet!
Rendez-vous
© Charles Cros
Ma belle amie est morte,
Et voilà quon la porte
En terre, ce matin,
En souliers de satin.
from The Vanity of Human Wishes
© Henry James Pye
Yet still one genral cry the skies assails,
And gain and grandeur load the tainted gales,
Few know the toiling statesmans fear or care,
Th insidious rival and the gaping heir.
I Love My Love
© Isabel Ecclestone Mackay
I LOVE my love for she is like a garden in the dawn,
Pale, yet pink-flushed, with softly waking eyes,
And primrose hair that brightens to gold skies,
And petalled lips for dew to linger on.
The Great Pax Whitie
© Nikki Giovanni
The genesis was life
The genesis was death
In the genesis of death
Was the genesis of war
be still peace be still
A Bachelor-Bookworms Complaint Of The Late Presidential Election
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
A MAN of peace, I never dared to marry,
Lover of tranquil hours, I dwelt apart;
Outside the realm where noisy schemes miscarry;
My only handmaids, Science, Learning, Art;
Oh! home of pleasant thought, of calm affection,
All blasted now by this last vile election!
The Day of Wrath / Dies Iræ
© Ambrose Bierce
Day of Satan's painful duty!
Earth shall vanish, hot and sooty;
So says Virtue, so says Beauty.
An Incident Of The Fire At Hamburg
© James Russell Lowell
The tower of old Saint Nicholas soared upward to the skies,
Like some huge piece of Nature's make, the growth of centuries;
You could not deem its crowding spires a work of human art,
They seemed to struggle lightward from a sturdy living heart.
I Hate
© C. K. Williams
I hate how this unsummoned sigh-sound, sob-sound,
not sound really, feeling, sigh-feeling, sob-feeling,
keeps rising in me, rasping in me, not in its old disguise
as nostalgia, sweet crazed call of the blackbird;
The Amenities
© Heather McHugh
I owe you an explanation.
My first memory isn’t your own
of an empty box. My babyhood cabinets held
a countlessness of cakes, my backyard
rotted into apple glut, windfalls of
money-tree, mouthfuls of fib.
Sir Peter Harpdon's End
© William Morris
John Curzon
Of those three prisoners, that before you came
We took down at St. John's hard by the mill,
Two are good masons; we have tools enough,
And you have skill to set them working.
The Small Vases from Hebron
© Naomi Shihab Nye
Tip their mouths open to the sky.
Turquoise, amber,
the deep green with fluted handle,
pitcher the size of two thumbs,
tiny lip and graceful waist.
Careless Hands Leave Torn Red Blossoms
© Xue Tao
This magical young season banishes the clouds
and wakes the land to bloom.
Fish play in the river pools
catching new scales from the small petals on the surface of the water.
The worldly have no knowledge of the delicate message of flowers;
Careless hands leave torn red blossoms scattered along the bank.
Fand, A Feerie Act III
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
[She looks towards the sea.
Attendant. None.
The sea mist drives too thickly.
A Soul in Prison
© Augusta Davies Webster
"They," you'd answer me,
if you owned my instance, "sorrowed in their doubt,
and did not wholly doubt, and loved."
from The Laurel Tree
© Louis Simpson
In the clear light that confuses everything
Only you, dark laurel,
Shadow my house,
The House Of Dust: Part 03: 07:
© Conrad Aiken
Study them . . . you will see there, in the porcelain,
If you stare hard enough, a sort of swimming
Of lights and shadows, ghosts within a crystal
My brain unfolding! There you'll see me sitting
Day after day, close to a certain window,
Looking down, sometimes, to see the people . . .
"Many in aftertimes will say of you"
© Christina Georgina Rossetti
Vien dietro a me e lascia dir le genti. Dante
Contando i casi della vita nostra. Petrarca
