Pet poems
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Legend.
© Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
THERE lived in the desert a holy manTo whom a goat-footed Faun one day
Paid a visit, and thus beganTo his surprise: "I entreat thee to pray
That grace to me and my friends may be given,
That we may be able to mount to Heaven,
Hans Sachs' Poetical Mission.
© Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
Soon as the spring-sun meets his view,
Repose begets him labour anew;
He feels that he holds within his brain
A little world, that broods there amain,
And that begins to act and to live,
Which he to others would gladly give.
Thou hast flashed on my sight,
© Alaric Alexander Watts
Thou hast flashed on my sight,
Like a spirit of love,
Two Sisters Of Persephone
© Sylvia Plath
Two girls there are : within the house
One sits; the other, without.
Daylong a duet of shade and light
Plays between these.
The Beauteous Flower.
© Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
Were I not prison'd here.
My sorrow sore oppresses me,
For when I was at liberty,
Our Contemporaries
© Ezra Pound
When the Taihaitian princess
Heard that he had decided,
She rushed out into the sunlight and swarmed up a
cocoanut palm tree,
To William Theodore Peters On His Renaissance Cloak
© Ernest Christopher Dowson
The cherry-coloured velvet of your cloak
Time hath not soiled: its fair embroideries
The Ship Of Earth.
© Sidney Lanier
"Thou Ship of Earth, with Death, and Birth, and Life, and Sex aboard,
And fires of Desires burning hotly in the hold,
I fear thee, O! I fear thee, for I hear the tongue and sword
At battle on the deck, and the wild mutineers are bold!
The Vanity of Human Wishes: The Tenth Satire of Juvenal, Imitated by Samuel Johnson
© Samuel Johnson
Yet still the gen'ral Cry the Skies assails
And Gain and Grandeur load the tainted Gales;
Few know the toiling Statesman's Fear or Care,
Th' insidious Rival and the gaping Heir.
Declaration Of War.
© Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
OH, would I resembledThe country girls fair,
Who rosy-red ribbonsAnd yellow hats wear!To believe I was prettyI thought was allow'd;
In the town I believed itWhen by the youth vow'd.Now that Spring hath return'd,All my joys disappear;
The girls of the countryHave lured him from here.To change dress and figure,Was needful I found,
Petition.
© Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
OH thou sweet maiden fair,
Thou with the raven hair,Why to the window go?While gazing down below,
Art standing vainly there?Oh, if thou stood'st for me,
And lett'st the latch but fly,How happy should I be!
What Spain Was Like
© Pablo Neruda
All your confinement, your animal isolation
While you are still conscious
Surrounded by the abstract stones of silence,
Your rough wine, your smooth wine
Your violent and dangerous vineyards.
The Legend Of The Horseshoe.
© Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
WHAT time our Lord still walk'd the earth,
Unknown, despised, of humble birth,
And on Him many a youth attended
(His words they seldom comprehended),
It's September
© Edgar Albert Guest
It's September, and the orchards are afire with red and gold,
And the nights with dew are heavy, and the morning's sharp with cold;
Now the garden's at its gayest with the salvia blazing red
And the good old-fashioned asters laughing at us from their bed;
Once again in shoes and stockings are the children's little feet,
And the dog now does his snoozing on the bright side of the street.
The Well Dressed Man With A Beard
© Wallace Stevens
After the final no there comes a yes
And on that yes the future world depends.
No was the night. Yes is this present sun.
If the rejected things, the things denied,
Peter Quince At The Clavier
© Wallace Stevens
Just as my fingers on these keys
Make music, so the self-same sounds
On my spirit make a music, too.
Music is feeling, then, not sound;
And thus it is that what I feel,
Here in this room, desiring you,
To My Worthy Friend Mr. Peter Lilly: On That Excellent Pict
© Richard Lovelace
Whilst the true eaglet this quick luster spies,
And by his SUN'S enlightens his owne eyes;
He cures his cares, his burthen feeles, then streight
Joyes that so lightly he can beare such weight;
Whilst either eithers passion doth borrow,
And both doe grieve the same victorious sorrow.
