All Poems

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Evening Ode

© Samuel Johnson

To Stella:

Evening now from purple wings

The Forsaken

© Caroline Norton

IT is the music of her native land,--
The airs she used to love in happier days;
The lute is struck by some young gentle hand,
To soothe her spirit with remember'd lays.
II.

There are who triumph in a losing cause,
Who can put on defeat, as 'twere a wreath
Unwithering in the adverse popular breath,
Safe from the blasting demagogue's applause;
'Tis they who stand for Freedom and God's laws.

Torn In Shreds

© Mirabai

Mine is Gopal, the Mountain-Holder; there is no one else.
On his head he wears the peacock-crown: He alone is my husband.
Father, mother, brother, relative: I have none to call my own.
I've forsaken both God, and the family's honor: what should I do?

Ralph Isham, 1753 And Later

© Eli Siegel

Know you him, O, him,
Who lived in those days?
He wore a gay coat,
And he stepped along, jauntily, jauntily,

The Sleepers

© Bliss William Carman

THE tall carnations crown the garden walks

Bowed on their stalks.

Fuel

© Lola Ridge

What of the silence of the keys
And silvery hands? The iron sings…
Though bows lie broken on the strings,
The fly-wheels turn eternally…

Sonnet - On Being Asked For An Autograph In Venice

© James Russell Lowell

Amid these fragments of heroic days

When thought met deed with mutual passion's leap,

Chaitanya

© Arun Kolatkar

a herd of legends
on the hill slope
looked up from its grazing
when chaitanya came into sight

The War

© Alfred Tennyson

There is a sound of thunder afar,

Storm in the south that darkens the day,

Montparnasse

© Ernest Hemingway

There are never any suicides in the quarter among people one knows

No successful suicides.

By The Seaside : The Lighthouse

The rocky ledge runs far into the sea,
And on its outer point, some miles away,
The Lighthouse lifts its massive masonry,
A pillar of fire by night, of cloud by day.

A Cup Of Tea

I have sipped, with drooping lashes,

Dreamy draughts of Verzenay;

Sonnet XIV: If Thou Must Love Me

If thou must love me, let it be for nought

Except for love's sake only. Do not say

The Wind Speaks

``In the depth of Night, on the heights of Day,
Would you know where I rest or roam?
In vain will you search, for I nowhere stay,
And the Universe is my home.

CYNTHIA, because your horns look diverse ways,
Now darken'd to the east, now to the west,
Then at full-glory once in thirty days,
Sense doth believe that change is nature's rest.