All Poems
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El Viajero
© Antonio Machado
Está en la sala familiar, sombría,
y entre nosotros, el querido hermano
que en el sueño infantil de un claro día
vimos partir hacia un país lejano.
Fulfilment
© Robert Nichols
Was there love once? I have forgotten her.
Was there grief once? Grief yet is mine.
Other loves I have, men rough, but men who stir
More grief, more joy, than love of thee and thine.
The Appeal
© Edith Nesbit
ALL summer-time you said:
"Love has no need of shelter nor of kindness,
For all the flowers take pity on his blindness,
And lead him to his scented rose-soft bed."
To Wordsworth
© Hartley Coleridge
THERE have been poets that in verse display
The elemental forms of human passions;
On Lord Thurlow's Poems
© George Gordon Byron
When Thurlow this damn'd nonsense sent
(I hope I am not violent),
Nor men nor gods knew what he meant.
Excerpt from Heer Waris Shah
© Waris Shah
Ishq kita su jag da mool mian
Pehlan aap hi rabb ne ishq kita
Te mashooq he nabi rasool mian
Psalm VII.
© John Milton
Lord my God if I have thought
Or done this, if wickedness
Be in my hands, if I have wrought
Ill to him that meant me peace,
Or to him have render'd less,
And fre'd my foe for naught;
Five Little Toes At Night
© Wilcox Ella Wheeler
This little toe is tired,
This little toe needs rocking,
This little toe is sleepy you know,
But this little toe keeps talking,
This toe big and tall is the mischief of all,
For he made a great hole in his stocking.
A Wayward Rose
© Dora Sigerson Shorter
Mischievous rose from the rose-tree swaying,
Can I not bind thee nor hold thee?
'Bound for the Lord-Knows-Where'
© Henry Lawson
'Where are you going with your horse and bike,
And the townsfolk still at rest?
The years, wherein I never knew
© Madison Julius Cawein
The years, wherein I never knew
Such beauty as is yours,--so fraught
With truth and kindness looking through
Your loveliness,--I count them naught,
O girl, so like a lily wrought!
The years wherein I knew not you.
Bluebeard
© Harry Graham
Yes, I am Bluebeard, and my name
Is one that children cannot stand;
Yet once I used to be so tame
I'd eat out of a person's hand;
So gentle was I wont to be
A Curate might have played with me.
To G. C. And R. L.
© Oliver Goldsmith
'TWAS you, or I, or he, or all together,
'Twas one, both, three of them, they know not whether;
This, I believe, between us great or small,
You, I, he, wrote it not--'twas Churchill's all.
Sonnet. "I hear a voice low in the sunset woods"
© Frances Anne Kemble
I hear a voice low in the sunset woods;
Listen, it says: "Decay, decay, decay."
The Old Man's Counsel
© William Cullen Bryant
Long since that white-haired ancient slept--but still,
When the red flower-buds crowd the orchard bough,
And the ruffed grouse is drumming far within
The woods, his venerable form again
Is at my side, his voice is in my ear.
The Little Country Bus
© Edgar Albert Guest
Theres no lock upon your door,
And the polish that you wore
Corned Beef and Cabbage by George Bilgere: American Life in Poetry #205 Ted Kooser, U.S. Poet Laurea
© Ted Kooser
Memories have a way of attaching themselves to objects, to details, to physical tasks, and here, George Bilgere, an Ohio poet, happens upon mixed feelings about his mother while slicing a head of cabbage.
Corned Beef and Cabbage
The Rose
© Madison Julius Cawein
So by those words of yours I'm led
To send it you this day you wed.
Look well upon it. You, as I,
Should ask it now, without a sigh,
If love can lie as it lies dead.--
You have forgot.
Thoughts In A Far Country
© Franklin Pierce Adams
I rise and applaud, in the patriot manner,
Whenever (as often) I hear
The palpitanat strains of "The Star Spangled Banner,"-
I shout and cheer.
