All Poems

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For He Had Great Possessions

© Dora Sigerson Shorter

And I had died before the spring had come,

When winter's kiss upon the fields was cold,

Procession I - Hanging day

© Wole Soyinka

Hanging day.
A hollow earth
Echoes footsteps of the grave procession.
Walls in sunspots
Lean to shadow of the shortening morn.

A Saint About To Fall

© Dylan Thomas

A saint about to fall,

The stained flats of heaven hit and razed

Fragment: The Lake's Margin

© Percy Bysshe Shelley

The fierce beasts of the woods and wildernesses
Track not the steps of him who drinks of it;
For the light breezes, which for ever fleet
Around its margin, heap the sand thereon.

The Song The Oriole Sings

© William Dean Howells

There is a bird that comes and sings
In a professor's garden-trees;
Upon the English oak he swings,
And tilts and tosses in the breeze.

Love Beyond Keeping

© Carl Sandburg

She had a box
with a million red bandanas for him.
She gave them to him
one by one or by thousands,
saying then she had not enough for him.

The Three Friends

© Adam Lindsay Gordon

The sword slew one in deadly strife;
One perish'd by the bowl;
The third lies self-slain by the knife;
For three the bells may toll -
I loved her better than my life,
And better than my soul.

To A Gentleman, Who Had Abus'd Waller.

© Mary Barber

I grieve to think that Waller's blam'd,
Waller, so long, so justly, fam'd.
Then own your Verses writ in Haste,
Or I shall say, you've lost your Taste.

Song For A Highland Drover Returning From England

Now fare-thee-well, England; no further I'll roam;
But follow my shadow that points the way home;
Your gay southern Shores shall not tempt me to stay;
For my Maggy's at Home, and my Children at play!
Tis this makes my Bonnet set light on my brow,
Gives my sinews their strength and my bosom its glow.

The Fields Of Flanders

© Edith Nesbit

Last year the fields were all glad and gay
With silver daisies and silver may;
There were kingcups gold by the river's edge
And primrose stars under every hedge.

The Elder-Witch

© George Borrow

Though tall the oak, and firm its stem,

Though far abroad its boughs are spread,

Pursuit And Possession

© Thomas Bailey Aldrich

When I behold what pleasure is pursuit,

What life, what glorious eagerness it is;

A Brief Love Letter

© Nizar Qabbani

My darling, I have much to say

Where o precious one shall I begin ?

Song Of The Cub

© James Clerk Maxwell

I know not what this may betoken,

That I feel so wondrous wise;

The Penitent

Thou see'st yon woman with the grave pelisse
Lined with dark sables? Is she not devout?
Her soul is in the service, and her eyes
Are dim with weeping,--weeping for the follies