Pet poems
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Dream Song 55: Peter's not friendly. He gives me sideways looks
© John Berryman
Peter's not friendly. He gives me sideways looks.
The architecture is far from reassuring.
I feel uneasy.
A pity,âthe interview began so well:
I mentioned fiendish things, he waved them away
and sloshed out a martini
At the Top of My voice
© Vladimir Mayakovsky
Professor,
take off your bicycle glasses!
I myself will expound
those times
and myself.
To All and Everything
© Vladimir Mayakovsky
Above the capitals madness
I raised my face,
stern as the faces of ancient icons.
Sorrow-rent,
on your body as on a death-bed, its days
my heart ended.
The Vision Of The Archangels
© Rupert Brooke
They then from the sheer summit cast, and watched it fall,
Through unknown glooms, that frail black coffin - and therein
God's little pitiful Body lying, worn and thin,
And curled up like some crumpled, lonely flower-petal -
Till it was no more visible; then turned again
With sorrowful quiet faces downward to the plain.
Browns Descent
© Robert Frost
Brown lived at such a lofty farm
That everyone for miles could see
His lantern when he did his chores
In winter after half-past three.
The Mountains of Mourne
© William Percy French
Oh, Mary, this London's a wonderful sight
With people here working by day and by night
To Earthward
© Robert Frost
Love at the lips was touch
As sweet as I could bear;
And once that seemed too much;
I lived on air
Leaves Compared With Flowers
© Robert Frost
A tree's leaves may be ever so good,
So may its bar, so may its wood;
But unless you put the right thing to its root
It never will show much flower or fruit.
The Garden Of The Sea.
© Arthur Henry Adams
THE infinite garden of the sea is His
To play in. Gravely smiling He resigns
To man his choice this rugged plot of earth,
Watches man tear it with his deep canals,
Work and Play
© Ted Hughes
The swallow of summer, she toils all the summer,
A blue-dark knot of glittering voltage,
The Faerie Qveene
© Edmund Spenser
Me thought I saw the grave where she lay
Within that Temple, where the vestal flame
The Oven Bird
© Robert Frost
There is a singer everyone has heard,
Loud, a mid-summer and a mid-wood bird,
Who makes the solid tree trunks sound again.
He says that leaves are old and that for flowers
The Need of Being Versed in Country Things
© Robert Frost
The house had gone to bring again
To the midnight sky a sunset glow.
Now the chimney was all of the house that stood,
Like a pistil after the petals go.
The White Peacock
© Stephen Vincent Benet
Go away!
Go away; I will not confess to you!
His black biretta clings like a hangman's cap; under his twitching fingers the beads shiver and click,
As he mumbles in his corner, the shadow deepens upon him;
I will not confess! . . .
The Borough. Letter XXII: Peter Grimes
© George Crabbe
Now lived the youth in freedom, but debarr'd
From constant pleasure, and he thought it hard;
Hard that he could not every wish obey,
But must awhile relinquish ale and play;
Hard! that he could not to his cards attend,
But must acquire the money he would spend.
In Morte Del Fratello Giovanni
© Ugo Foscolo
Un dí, s'io non andrò sempre fuggendo
Di gente in gente, me vedrai seduto
Su la tua pietra, o fratel mio, gemendo
Il fior de' tuoi gentili anni caduto.
Putting in the Seed
© Robert Frost
You come to fetch me from my work to-night
When supper's on the table, and we'll see
If I can leave off burying the white
Soft petals fallen from the apple tree
Thoughts on Predestination and Reprobation : Part IV.
© John Byrom
To bless is his immutable decree,
Such as could never have begun to be:
Autumnal (With English Translation)
© Rubén Dario
Oh, thirst for the idea! From the height
Of a great mountain forested with night
She showed me all the stars and told their names;
It was a golden garden wherein grows
The fleur-de-lys of heaven, leaved with flames.
And I cried, "More!" and then the dawn arose.
