One moonlit night a ship drove in,
A ghost ship from the west,
Drifting with bare mast and lone tiller,
Like a mermaid drest
In long green weed and barnacles:
She beached and came to rest.

Hooray, the echo will resound throughout the wide square,
When a sincere drunkard's song emanates from my throat;
Tonight I'll be lapping up a smoky pub's atmosphere,
I'm bloody well going to get sloshed, buzzed and somewhere float.

The Love Sonnets Of Proteus. Part III: Gods And False Gods: LXV

© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt

TO ONE WHO SPOKE ILL OF HIM
What is your quarrel with me, in love's name,
Fair queen of wrath? What evil have I done,
What treason to the thought of our dear shame

To D, Dead By Her Own Hand

© Howard Nemerov

That was a life ago. And now youve gone,
Who would no longer play the grown-ups game
Where, balanced on the ledge above the dark,
You go on running and you dont look down,
Nor ever jump because you fear to fall.

The Young Ionia

© John Frederick Nims

If you could come on the late train for
The same walk
Or a hushed talk by the fireplace
When the ash flares

The Deserter

© Boris Vian

Mr. President
I'm writing you a letter
that perhaps you will read
If you have the time.

The Wanderer

© Sara Teasdale

I saw the sunset-colored sands,
The Nile, like flowing fire between,
Where Ramses stares forth serene
And ammon's heavy temple stands.

This

© Fernando António Nogueira Pessoa

They say I pretend or lie
All I write. No such thing.
It simply is that I
Feel by imagining.
I don't use the heart-string.

The Mole Part Two

Doch immerhin und einerlei!
Ein Flintenschuß ist schnell vorbei.

The Rose is not fair

THE rose is not fair without the beloved's face,
Nor merry the Spring without the sweet laughter of wine;
The path through the fields, and winds from a flower strewn place,
Without her bright check, which glows like a tulip fine,
Nor winds softly blowing, fields deep in corn, are fair.