All Poems

/ page 1103 of 3210 /

Order by :

London's Summer Morning

© Mary Darby Robinson

Who has not waked to list the busy sounds

Of summer's morning, in the sultry smoke

The Snow Storm

© Ethelwyn Wetherald

The Great soft downy snow storm like a cloak

Descends to wrap the lean world head to feet;

The Bird of Jesus

© Padraic Colum

Each had a bearing that was like a prince's,
Yet they were simple lads and had the kindness
Of our own folk lads simple and unknowing:
Then, afterwards, we went to visit them.

A blight, a gloom, I know not what, has crept upon my gladness-
Some vague, remote ancestral touch of sorrow, or of madness;
A fear that is not fear, a pain that has not pain's insistence;
A sense of longing, or of loss, in some foregone exsistence;
A subtle hurt that never pen has writ nor tongue has spoken-
Such hurt perchance as Nature feels wen a blossomed bough is broken.

My Midnight Meditation

© Henry King

Ill busi'd man! why should'st thou take such care
To lengthen out thy life's short calendar?
When ev'ry spectacle thou lookst upon
Presents and acts thy execution.
Each drooping season and each flower doth cry,
"Fool! as I fade and wither, thou must die.

Thanksgiving

© Lizelia Augusta Jenkins Moorer

Let us give thanks to God above,
Thanks for expressions of His love,
Seen in the book of nature, grand
Taught by His love on every hand.

Phantom Footsteps

© Henry Clay Work

Childish footsteps, just behind her,

Softly patter on the green.

Lullaby

© Edith Nesbit

SLEEP, sleep, my treasure,
The long day's pleasure
Has tired the birds, to their nests they creep;
The garden still is
Alight with lilies,
But all the daisies are fast asleep.

Upper Austria

© John Kenyon

And he had comment, full and clear,
The fruit of many a travelled year;
But more, by meditation brought
From inner depths of silent thought;
Or fresh from fountain, never dry,
Of undisturbed humanity.

Dans l'ombre

© Victor Marie Hugo

LE VIEUX MONDE
Ô flot, c'est bien. Descends maintenant. Il le faut.
Jamais ton flux encor n'était monté si haut.
Mais pourquoi donc es-tu si sombre et si farouche ?

Tender Mercies

© Anna Laetitia Waring

Tender mercies, on my way
Falling softly like the dew,
Sent me freshly every day,
I will bless the Lord for you.

Early One Morning

© Edward Thomas

Early one morning in May I set out,
And nobody I knew was about.
I'm bound away for ever,
Away somewhere, away for ever.

The Great River

© Henry Van Dyke

In la sua volontade è nostra pace.
O mighty river! strong, eternal Will,
Wherein the streams of human good and ill
Are onward swept, conflicting, to the sea!
The world is safe because it floats in Thee.

A Song To Eleonora Duse In "Francesca da Rimini "

© Sara Teasdale

Oh would I were the roses, that lie against her hands,
The heavy burning roses she touches as she stands!
Dear hands that hold the roses, where mine would love to be,
Oh leave, oh leave the roses, and hold the hands of me!
She draws the heart from out them, she draws away their breath,
Oh would that I might perish and find so sweet a death!

On Mrs Mendez' Birthday, Who Was Born On Valentine's Day

Thine is the gentle day of love,
When youths and virgins try their fate;
When, deep retiring to the grove,
Each feathered songster weds his mate.

Weariness. (Birds Of Passage. Flight The Second)

O little feet! that such long years
Must wander on through hopes and fears,
Must ache and bleed beneath your load;
I, nearer to the wayside inn
Where toil shall cease and rest begin,
Am weary, thinking of your road!

Sensuality

FEELING hunger and cold, feeling
Food, feeling fire, feeling
Pity and pain, tasting
Time in a kiss, tasting

The Barren Fig-Tree

© John Newton

The church a garden is
In which believers stand,
Like ornamental trees
Planted by God's own hand:
His Spirit waters all their roots,
And every branch abounds with fruits.

The Assault

A sudden thrill.
"Fix bayonets."
Gods! we have our fill
Of fear, hysteria, exultation, rage -
Rage to kill….

The Pig and the Rooster

Thus ended the strife, as does many a fight;
Each thought his foe wrong, and his own notions right.
Pig turn'd, with a grunt, to his mire anew,
And He-biddy, laughing, cried -- cock-a-doodle-doo.