All Poems
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Zyps Of Zirl
© Madison Julius Cawein
The Alps of the Tyrol are dark with pines,
Where, foaming under the mountain spines,
The Inn's long water sounds and shines.
God Neither Known Nor Loved By The World
© William Cowper
Ye linnets, let us try, beneath this grove,
Which shall be loudest in our Maker's praise!
In quest of some forlorn retreat I rove,
For all the world is blind, and wanders from his ways.
Sur L'Herbe
© Paul Verlaine
"The abbe rambles."--"You, marquis,
Have put your wig on all awry."--
"This wine of Cyprus kindles me
Less, my Camargo, than your eye!"
Commission
© Ezra Pound
Go, my songs, to the lonely and the unsatisfied,
Go also to the nerve-racked, go to the enslaved-by-convention,
Bear to them my contempt for their oppressors.
Go as a great wave of cool water,
Bear my contempt of oppressors.
Travel Prayer
© Margaret Widdemer
ALL along the way
As through the night we go,
I see the little houses
In lighted row on row
Poetical Love
© Samuel Boyse
As Daphne did from tuneful Phoebus fly,
Still must his Sons expect an equal Fate!
For cruel Beauty doom'd in vain to sigh,
And find their Tenderness repaid with Hate.
Gloucester Moors
© William Vaughn Moody
A mile behind is Gloucester town
Where the flishing fleets put in,
Hymn, Sung At Christmas By The Scholars Of St. Helenas Island, S.C.
© John Greenleaf Whittier
OH, none in all the world before
Were ever glad as we!
April
© Sara Teasdale
The roofs are shining from the rain.
The sparrows tritter as they fly,
And with a windy April grace
The little clouds go by.
1946-47
© Jibanananda Das
Thousands of Bengali villages, silent and powerless, sink into
hopelessness and lightlessness.
When the sun sets, a certain lovely haired darkness
Comes to fix her hair in-a bun-but by whose hands?
The Jealous Gods
© Wilcox Ella Wheeler
Oh life is wonderful,' she said,
'And all my world is bright;
Can Paradise show fairer skies,
Or more effulgent light?'
(Speak lower, lower, mortal heart,
The jealous gods may hear.)
The Brothers
© Richard Monckton Milnes
'Tis true, that we can sometimes speak of Death,
Even of the Deaths of those we love the best,
Without dismay or terror; we can sit
In serious calm beneath deciduous trees,
Growin' Gray
© Paul Laurence Dunbar
HELLO, ole man, you're a-gittin' gray,
An' it beats ole Ned to see the way
Wet Weather
© Isabel Ecclestone Mackay
IT is the English in me that loves the soft, wet weather--
The cloud upon the mountain, the mist upon the sea,
The sea-gull flying low and near with rain upon each feather,
The scent of deep, green woodlands where the buds are breaking free.
O'er The Wood's Brow
© Paul Verlaine
O'er the wood's brow,
Pale, the moon stares;
In every bough
Wandering airs
Faintly suspire. . . .
Mary, Mary, quite contrary
© Roald Dahl
Mary, Mary, quite contrary
How does your garden grow?
"I live with my brat in a high-rise flat,
So how in the world would I know."
The Trial
© Nizar Qabbani
The East receives my songs, some praise, some curse
To each of them my gratitude I bear
For I've avenged the blood of each slain woman
and haven offered her who is in fear.
The Solitary Reaper
© William Wordsworth
Behold her, single in the field,
Yon solitary Highland Lass!
