All Poems
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The Last Song
© Madison Julius Cawein
She sleeps; he sings to her. The day was long,
And, tired out with too much happiness,
Winter Landscape
© John Berryman
The three men coming down the winter hill
In brown, with tall poles and a pack of hounds
At heel, through the arrangement of the trees,
Past the five figures at the burning straw,
Returning cold and silent to their town,
My Autumn Walk
© William Cullen Bryant
ON woodlands ruddy with autumn
The amber sunshine lies;
I look on the beauty round me,
And tears come into my eyes.
Eudoxia. First Picture
© Dinah Maria Mulock Craik
O SWEETEST my sister, my sister that sits in the sun,
Her lap full of jewels, and roses in showers on her hair;
Soft smiling and counting her riches up slow, one by one,
Cool-browed, shaking dew from her garlands--those garlands so fair,
To Cowper
© Anne Brontë
Sweet are thy strains, celestial Bard;
And oft, in childhood's years,
I've read them o'er and o'er again,
With floods of silent tears.
The Little Sister Of The Prophet
© Marjorie Lowry Christie Pickthall
Then the little brown mother smiled,
As one does on the words of a well-loved child,
And, "Son," she replied, "have the oxen been watered and fed ?
For work is to do, though the skies be never so red,
And already the first sweet hours of the day are spent."
And he sighed, and went.
The Lanawn Shee
© Francis Ledwidge
Powdered and perfumed the full bee
Winged heavily across the clover,
And where the hills were dim with dew,
Purple and blue the west leaned over.
Winter's Night
© Eugene Marais
O East-wind gives mournful measure to song
Like the lilt of a lovelorn lass who's been wronged
In every grass fold
bright dewdrop takes hold
and promptly pales to frost in the cold!
Polyphemus
© Ambrose Bierce
Twas a sick young man with a face ungay
And an eye that was all alone;
And he shook his head in a hopeless way
As he sat on a roadside stone.
Now With Creation's Morning Song
© Aurelius Clemens Prudentius
Now with creations morning song
Let us, as children of the day,
With wakened heart and purpose strong,
The works of darkness cast away.
The Cherry Tree by David Wagoner: American Life in Poetry #202 Ted Kooser, U.S. Poet Laureate 2004-2
© Ted Kooser
Its oldest branches now, the survivors carved
by knife blades, rain, and wind, are sending shoots
straight up, blood red, into the light again.
American Life in Poetry is made possible by The Poetry Foundation (www.poetryfoundation.org), publisher of Poetry magazine. It is also supported by the Department of English at the University of Nebraska-Lincoln. Poem copyright ©2008 by David Wagoner, whose most recent book of poetry is âGood Morning and Good Night,â? University of Illinois Press, 2005. Reprinted from âCrazyhorse,â? No. 73, Spring 2008, by permission of David Wagoner. Introduction copyright © 2009 by The Poetry Foundation. The introduction's author, Ted Kooser, served as United States Poet Laureate Consultant in Poetry to the Library of Congress from 2004-2006. We do not accept unsolicited manuscripts.
Aaj Rung Hai
© Amir Khusro
Aaj rung hai hey maan rung hai ri
Moray mehboob kay ghar rang hai ri
Sajan milaavra, sajan milaavra,
Gulls
© Virna Sheard
When the mist drives past and the wind blows high,
And the harbour lights are dim--
See where they circle, and dip and fly,
The grey free-lances of wind and sky,
To the water's distant rim!
A Dead Woman
© Henry Cuyler Bunner
Not a kiss in life; but one kiss, at lifes end,
I have set on the face of Death in trust for thee.
Through long years keep it fresh on thy lips, 0 friend!
At the gate of Silence give it back to me.
Ode For Ted
© Sylvia Plath
From under the crunch of my man's boot
green oat-sprouts jut;
he names a lapwing, starts rabbits in a rout
legging it most nimble
to sprigged hedge of bramble,
stalks red fox, shrewd stoat.
Hollyhocks
© Edgar Albert Guest
Old-fashioned flowers! I love them all:
The morning-glories on the wall,
Young England
© William Henry Ogilvie
Foam upon their snaffle-bars, forelocks flying free,
Busy little Shetlands battle up the ride ;
Cream below the crupper-straps, mud above the knee ;
Vieing with the hunters that pass them in a stride.
