All Poems
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On the Friendship Betwixt Two Ladies
© Edmund Waller
Tell me, lovely, loving pair!
Why so kind, and so severe?
Why so careless of our care,
Only to yourselves so dear?
Epimetheus, or the Poet's Afterthought. (Birds Of Passage. Flight The First)
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Have I dreamed? or was it real,
What I saw as in a vision,
When to marches hymeneal
In the land of the Ideal
Moved my thought o'er Fields Elysian?
L'archet
© Charles Cros
Elle avait de beaux cheveux, blonds
Comme une moisson daoût, si longs
Quils lui tombaient jusquaux talons.
LInconnue
© Oliver Wendell Holmes
Is thy name Mary, maiden fair?
Such should, methinks, its music be;
The sweetest name that mortals bear
Were best befitting thee;
And she to whom it once was given,
Was half of earth and half of heaven.
Song
© Samuel Johnson
Not the soft sighs of vernal gales,
The fragrance of the flowery vales,
The murmurs of the crystal rill,
The vocal grove, the verdant hill;
Not all their charms, though all unite,
Can touch my bosom with delight.
The Bobolinks
© Christopher Pearse Cranch
WHEN Nature had made all her birds,
With no more cares to think on,
She gave a rippling laugh, and out
There flew a Bobolinkon.
Night Litany
© Ezra Pound
Yea the lines hast thou laid unto me
in pleasant places,
And the beauty of this thy Venice
hast thou shown unto me
Until is its loveliness become unto me
a thing of tears.
A New Song to an Old Tune
© William Ernest Henley
SONS of Shannon, Tamar, Trent,
Men of the Lothians, Men of Kent,
Hymn XXXII. Lord, now the time returns,
© John Austin
Lord, now the time returns,
For weary man to rest;
To You.
© Arthur Henry Adams
SO you have come at last!
And we nestle, each in each,
As leans the pliant sea in the clean-curved limbs of her lover the beach;
Merged in each other quite,
Snow-Flakes. (Birds Of Passage. Flight The Second)
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Out of the bosom of the Air
Out of the cloud-folds of her garments shaken,
Over the woodlands brown and bare,
Over the harvest-fields forsaken,
Silent, and soft, and slow
Descends the snow.
Modern Beauty
© Arthur Symons
I am the torch, she saith, and what to me
If the moth die of me? I am the flame
Of Beauty, and I burn that all may see
Beauty, and I have neither joy nor shame.
But live with that clear light of perfect fire
Which is to men the death of their desire.
Despair
© Mathilde Blind
Lo, wilt thou yield thyself to grief, and roll
Vanquished from thy high seat, imperial brain,
And abdicating turbulent life's control,
Be dragged a captive bound in sorrow's chain?
Nay! though my heart is breaking with its pain,
No pain on earth has power to crush my soul.
A Lost Opportunity
© Robert Fuller Murray
One dark, dark night-it was long ago,
The air was heavy and still and warm -
It fell to me and a man I know,
To see two girls to their father's farm.
The Letter
© Wilfred Owen
With B.E.F. Jun 10. Dear Wife,
(Oh blast this pencil. 'Ere, Bill, lend's a knife.)
On the Death of Mrs. Browning
© Sydney Thompson Dobell
WHICH of the Angels sang so well in Heaven
That the approving Archon of the quire
The Quilting
© Paul Laurence Dunbar
DOLLY sits a-quilting by her mother, stitch by stich,
Gracious, how my pulses throb, how my fingers itch,
While I note her dainty waist and her slender hand,
As she matches this and that, she stitches strand by strand.
And I long to tell her Life's a quilt and I'm a patch;
Love will do the stitching if she'll only be my match.
