All Poems
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I Was A Bustlemaker Once, Girls
© Patrick Barrington
When I was a lad of twenty and was working in High Street, Ken.,
I made quite a pile in a very little while - I was a bustle maker then.
The Child Of The Islands - Spring
© Caroline Norton
I.
WHAT shalt THOU know of Spring? A verdant crown
Of young boughs waving o'er thy blooming head:
White tufted Guelder-roses, showering down
Southern Sunrise
© Sylvia Plath
Color of lemon, mango, peach,
These storybook villas
Still dream behind
Shutters, thier balconies
Fine as hand-
Made lace, or a leaf-and-flower pen-sketch.
On Visiting The Tomb Of Burns
© John Keats
The town, the churchyard, and the setting sun,
The clouds, the trees, the rounded hills all seem,
Though beautiful, cold- strange- as in a dream
I dreamed long ago, now new begun.
Tuesday In Whitsun-Week
© John Keble
"Lord, in Thy field I work all day,
I read, I teach, I warn, I pray,
And yet these wilful wandering sheep
Within Thy fold I cannot keep.
By an Evolutionist
© Alfred Tennyson
The Lord let the house of a brute to the soul of a man,
And the man said, Am I your debtor?
And the LordNot yet; but make it as clean as you can,
And then I will let you a better.
Mongrel Heart by David Baker: American Life in Poetry #44 Ted Kooser, U.S. Poet Laureate 2004-2006
© Ted Kooser
Unlike the calculated expressions of feeling common to its human masters, there is nothing disingenuous about the way a dog praises, celebrates, frets or mourns. In this poem David Baker gives us just such an endearing mutt.
Mongrel Heart
Up the dog bounds to the window, baying
� � � � � � like a basset his doleful, tearing sounds
� � � � � � � � � � � � from the belly, as if mourning a dead king,
Roses Rising
© Renee Vivien
My brunette with the golden eyes, your ivory body, your amber
Has left bright reflections in the room
Above the garden.
The Last Fence
© William Henry Ogilvie
When the last fence looms up, I am ready
And I hope when the rails of it crack
Sonnet VI: The Kiss
© Dante Gabriel Rossetti
What smouldering senses in death's sick delay
Or seizure of malign vicissitude
Naples
© John Greenleaf Whittier
Fold her, O Father, in Thine arms,
And let her henceforth be
A messenger of love between
Our human hearts and Thee.
The Lure
© Robert Laurence Binyon
The long road lures across the hill,
Divides the brown fields and the green,
And curves, and dips, and climbing still
Gleams over into lands unseen.
Mid Atlantic
© Robert Laurence Binyon
If this were all!--A dream of dread
Ran through me; I watched the waves that fled
Pale--crested out of hollows black,
The hungry lift of helpless waves,
A Death in the Bush
© Henry Kendall
For, ere the early settlers came and stocked
These wilds with sheep and kine, the grasses grew
So that they took the passing pilgrim in
And whelmed him, like a running sea, from sight.
Again Rejoicing Nature Sees
© Robert Burns
In vain to me the cowslips blaw,
In vain to me the vi'lets spring;
In vain to me, in glen or shaw,
The mavis and the lintwhite sing.
And maun I still…
The Return Of Peace
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
They could not quell the grieved and shuddering air,
That breathed about me its forlorn despair:
It almost seemed as if stern Triumph sped
To one whose hopes were dead,
And flaunting there his fortune's ruddier grace,
Smote--with a taunt--wan Misery in the face!
Illicit
© Conrad Aiken
Of what she said to me that nightno matter.
The strange thing came next day.
The Baptism
© France Preseren
(an excerpt from the epic The Baptism at The Savica)
The warring clouds have vanished from the skies;
The Beginnings
© Rudyard Kipling
It was not part of their blood,
It came to them very late
With long arrears to make good,
When the English began to hate.
