All Poems

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Sonnet VII

© Caroline Norton

LIKE an enfranchised bird, who wildly springs,
With a keen sparkle in his glancing eye
And a strong effort in his quivering wings,
Up to the blue vault of the happy sky,--

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Wrinkles

© Walter Savage Landor

WHEN Helen first saw wrinkles in her face
(’T was when some fifty long had settled there
And intermarried and branch’d off awide)
She threw herself upon her couch and wept:

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Poem 8

© Kabir

THE river and its waves are one
surf: where is the difference between the river and its waves?
When the wave rises, it is the water; and when it falls, it is the same water again. Tell me, Sir, where is the distinction?
Because it has been named as wave, shall it no longer be considered as water?

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Community

© John Donne

Good we must love, and must hate ill,
For ill is ill, and good good still ;
 But there are things indifferent,
Which wee may neither hate, nor love,
But one, and then another prove,
 As we shall find our fancy bent.

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It Weeps In My Heart

© Paul Verlaine

It weeps in my heart
As it rains on the town.
What is this dull smart
Possessing my heart?

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To The Boy

© Edgar Albert Guest

I have no wish, my little lad,

  To climb the towering heights of fame.

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Time And Time

© George MacDonald

As I was walkin on the strand,

I spied ane auld man sit

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To Sir William Davenant

© Abraham Cowley

UPON HIS TWO FIRST BOOKS OF GONDIBERT

FINISHED BEFORE HIS VOYAGE TO AMERICA.

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Hush'd Be the Camps Today

© Walt Whitman

Hush'd be the camps today,
And soldiers let us drape our war-worn weapons,
And each with musing soul retire to celebrate,
Our dear commander's death.

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Evangeline: Part The First. III.

© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

BENT like a laboring oar, that toils in the surf of the ocean,

Bent, but not broken, by age was the form of the notary public;

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"All through the day at my machine"

© Lesbia Harford

All through the day at my machine
There still keeps going
A strange little tune through heart and head
As I sit sewing:

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Now Spring Has Clad The Grove In Green

© Robert Burns

Now spring has clad the grove in green,


  And strew'd the lea wi' flowers;

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A German Student’s Funeral Hymn

© Dinah Maria Mulock Craik

WITH steady march across the daisy meadow,
And by the churchyard wall we go;
But leave behind, beneath the linden shadow,
One, who no more will rise and go:
Farewell, our brother, here sleeping in dust,
Till thou shalt wake again, wake with the just.

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The Cathedral Of Rheims

© Emile Verhaeren

He who walks through the meadows of Champagne

At noon in Fall, when leaves like gold appear,

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El Ancla

© Ramon Lopez Velarde

Antes de echar el ancla en el tesoro
del amor postrimero, yo quisiera
correr el mundo en fiebre de carrera,
con juventud, y una pepita de oro
en los rincones de me faltriquera.

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Retro Santhanas

© Edith Nesbit

"REFUSE, refrain: for this is not the love
The Annunciation Angel warned you of;
This is the little candle, not the sun;
It burns, but will not warm, unhappy one!"

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Spleen

© Ernest Christopher Dowson

(For Arthur Symons)

I was not sorrowful, I could not weep,

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Naucratia; Or Naval Dominion. Part I

© Henry James Pye

  By love of opulence and science led,
  Now Commerce wide her peaceful empire spread, 
  And seas, obedient to the pilot's art,
  But join'd the regions which they seem'd to part;
  Free intercourse disarm'd the barbarous mind,
  Tam'd savage hate, and humaniz'd mankind.

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St. James's Day

© John Keble

Sit down and take thy fill of joy

  At God's right hand, a bidden guest,

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In Memoriam A. H. H.: 95

© Alfred Tennyson

  While now we sang old songs that peal'd
  From knoll to knoll, where, couch'd at ease,
  The white kine glimmer'd, and the trees
  Laid their dark arms about the field.