All Poems

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Visiting The Taoist Priest Dai Tianshan But Not Finding Him

© Li Po

A dog's bark amid the water's sound,
Peach blossom that's made thicker by the rain.
Deep in the trees, I sometimes see a deer,
And at the stream I hear no noonday bell.

The Cnydian Oracle

© Paul Hamilton Hayne

"What though the Isthmus lacks an ocean-gate,
Delve not the soil! If Jove had willed it so,
His watchful power had opened long ago
The channelled pathways of a billowy strait."

Shes a liberated lady and shes lookin out for herself.
And she dont need your protection,
And she does not want your help.
And if youre lookin for some pretty flower,
You better go look somewhere else,
Cause I warn you, shes a liberated lady.

The Tavern Of Last Times

© Wilcox Ella Wheeler

At Box Hill, Surrey

A modern hour from London (as we spin

The Winged Mariners

© Ada Cambridge

Through the wild night, the silence and the dark,
Through league on league of the uncharted sky,
Lonelier than dove of fable from its ark,
The fieldfares fly.

After A Lecture On Keats

© Oliver Wendell Holmes

"Purpureos spargam flores."

THE wreath that star-crowned Shelley gave

On Love

© Bliss William Carman

TO the assembled folk

At great St. Kavins spoke

Blue Arab

© Judith Wright

The small blue Arab stallion dances on the hill
like a glancing breaker, like a storm rearing in the sky,
In his prick-ears,the wind, that wanderer and spy,
sings of the dunes of Arabia, lion-coloured still.

Pretty Twinkling Starry Eyes

© Nicholas Breton

Pretty twinkling starry eyes!
How did Nature first devise
Such a sparkling in your sight
As to give Love such delight
As to make him, like a fly,
Play with looks until he die?

Of Heaven

© John Bunyan

Heaven is a place, also a state,
It doth all things excel,
No man can fully it relate,
Nor of its glory tell.

A Loving-Cup Song

© Oliver Wendell Holmes

COME, heap the fagots! Ere we go

Again the cheerful hearth shall glow;

The Music O The Dead

© William Barnes

When music, in a heart that's true,

Do kindle up wold loves anew,

Metamorphoses: Book The Seventh

© Ovid

The End of the Seventh Book.

Translated into English verse under the direction of
Sir Samuel Garth by John Dryden, Alexander Pope, Joseph Addison,
William Congreve and other eminent hands

In Utroque Fidelis

ALONG the woods the whispering night-airs swoon,
A single bird-note dies adown the trees,
Clear, pallid, mournful, droops the summer moon,
Dipped in the foam of cloudland's phantom seas;--
Soundless they heave above
The dim, ancestral home that holds my love.

Irelands Vow

Come! Liberty, come! we are ripe for thy coming-
Come freshen the hearts where thy rival has trod-
Come, richest and rarest!-come, purest and fairest!-
Come, daughter of Science!-come, gift of the God!