All Poems
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If Amy Lowell Had Been James Whitcomb Riley
© Franklin Pierce Adams
When you came you were like red wine and honey,
And the taste of you burnt my mouth with its sweetness.
Now you are like morning bread-
Smooth and pleasant,
I hardly taste you at all, for I know your savour,
But I am completely nourished.
Told By "The Noted Traveler"
© James Whitcomb Riley
Even so had they wrought all ways
To earn the pennies, and hoard them, too,--
And with what ultimate end in view?--
They were saving up money enough to be
Able, in time, to buy their own
Five children back.
Otho The Great - Act II
© John Keats
SCENE I. An Ante-chamber in the Castle.
Enter LUDOLPH and SIGIFRED.
There Is Still Splendour
© Robert Laurence Binyon
O when will life taste clean again? For the air
Is fouled: the world sees, hears; and each day brings
Vile fume that would corrupt eternal things,
Were they corruptible. Harsh trumpets blare
Home--Coming
© Robert Laurence Binyon
From the howl of the wind
As I opened the door
And entered, the firelight
Was soft on the floor.
Lord Nevil's Advice
© Ada Cambridge
"Friend," quoth Lord Nevil, "thou art young
To face the world, and thou art blind
To subtle ways of womankind;
The meshes thou wilt fall among.
In The Years Of Sarsfield
© Dora Sigerson Shorter
I wish I were over the Curlew Mountains,
Marching to Sligo by valley and fen;
At A House In Hampstead Sometime The Dwelling Of John Keats
© Thomas Hardy
O poet, come you haunting here
Where streets have stolen up all around,
And never a nightingale pours one
Full-throated sound?
Lament
© Katharine Tynan
Suvla, name of bitterness,
Myrrh and aloes in the mouth,
Salt as Dead Sea water is!
All that splendour, all that youth,
All that nobleness! Oh, waste
Of the dearest, loveliest!
Oh, No More, No More...
© John Ford
Oh, no more, no more, too late
Sighs are spent; the burning tapers
Of a life as chaste as fate,
Pure as are unwritten papers,
Are burned out; no heat, no light
Now remains; tis ever night.
Duty Surviving Self-Love, The Only Sure Friend Of Declining Life. A Soliloquy
© Samuel Taylor Coleridge
Unchanged within, to see all changed without,
Is a blank lot and hard to bear, no doubt.
Yet why at others' Wanings should'st thou fret?
Then only might'st thou feel a just regret,
Rise Ye! Rise Ye!
© Henry Lawson
Rise Ye! rise ye! noble toilers! claim your rights with fire and steel!
Rise ye! for the cursed tyrants crush ye with the hiron eel!
A Northern Vigil
© Bliss William Carman
HERE by the gray north sea,
In the wintry heart of the wild,
Comes the old dream of thee,
Guendolen, mistress and child.
You're right
© Emily Dickinson
You're right"the way is narrow"
And "difficult the Gate"
And "few there be"Correct again
That "enter inthereat"
On Rembrandt; Occasioned By His Picture Of Jacob's Dream
© Washington Allston
As in that twilight, superstitious age
When all beyond the narrow grasp of mind
The Little Czar
© Henry Lawson
Oh, Great White Czar of Russia, who hid your face and ran,
Youve flung afar the grandest chance that ever came to man!
You might have been, and could have beenah, think it to your shame!
The Czar of all the Russias, in fact as well as name.
