Truth poems
/ page 196 of 257 /
Summum Bonum
© Peter McArthur
HOW blest is he that can but love and do
And has no skill of speech nor trick of art
Attitude To A Miss
© Vladimir Mayakovsky
That night was to decide
if she and I
were to be lovers.
Under cover
How Rudeness And Kindness Were Justly Rewarded
© Guy Wetmore Carryl
The Moral of the tale is: Bah!
Nous avons change tout cela.
No clear idea I hope to strike
Of what our nicest girl is like,
But she whose best young man I am
Is not an oyster, nor a clam!
XIII: Epistle: To Katherine, Lady Aubigny
© Benjamin Jonson
'Tis growne almost a danger to speake true
Of any good minde, now: There are so few.
A Daffodil
© Robert Laurence Binyon
Pure--throated Flower,
Smelling of Spring,
Shaped beyond art's
Imagining;
The Generations of Men
© Robert Frost
A governor it was proclaimed this time,
When all who would come seeking in New Hampshire
Ancestral memories might come together.
And those of the name Stark gathered in Bow,
Epilogue - To the Tragedy of Cleone
© William Shenstone
Well, Ladies-so much for the tragic style-
And now the custom is to make you smile.
Open House
© Theodore Roethke
My secrets cry aloud.
I have no need for tongue.
My heart keeps open house,
My doors are widely swung.
An epic of the eyes
My love, with no disguise.
A Boundless Moment
© Robert Frost
He halted in the wind, and--what was that
Far in the maples, pale, but not a ghost?
He stood there bringing March against his thought,
And yet too ready to believe the most.
From The Philosophers Stone
© Hans Christian Andersen
Now she heard the following words sadly sung,
Life is a shadow that flits away
Conversation
© Wilcox Ella Wheeler
We were a baker's dozen in the house-six women and six men
Besides myself; and all of us had known
I. The Witch of Coös
© Robert Frost
I stayed the night for shelter at a farm
Behind the mountains, with a mother and son,
Two old-believers. They did all the talking.
Written to be Spoken by Mrs. Siddons
© Samuel Rogers
Yes, 'tis the pulse of life! my fears were vain!
I wake, I breathe, and am myself again.
Still in this nether world; no seraph yet!
Nor walks my spirit, when the sun is set,
An Epistle Of The Right Honourable Sir Robert Walpole
© Richard Savage
As the rich cloud by due degrees expands,
And show'rs down plenty thick on sundry lands,
Thy spreading worth in various bounty fell,
Made genius flourish, and made art excel.
The Hill Wife
© Robert Frost
One ought not to have to care
So much as you and I
Care when the birds come round the house
To seem to say good-bye;
An Acre Of Grass
© William Butler Yeats
PICTURE and book remain,
An acre of green grass
For air and exercise,
Now strength of body goes;
Midnight, an old house
Where nothing stirs but a mouse.
Mowing
© Robert Frost
There was never a sound beside the wood but one,
And that was my long scythe whispering to the ground.
What was it it whispered? I knew not well myself;
Perhaps it was something about the heat of the sun,
Wall, Cave, And Pillar Statements, After Asoka
© Alan Dugan
In order to perfect all readers
the statements should he carved
For Once, Then, Something
© Robert Frost
Others taught me with having knelt at well-curbs
Always wrong to the light, so never seeing
Deeper down in the well than where the water
Gives me back in a shining surface picture
