All Poems

/ page 1109 of 3210 /

Order by :

Apollo And Daphne

© Samuel Boyse

Cease, thou bright God of Poetry and Light,
To urge relentless Daphne's rapid Flight!
Think on th' inconstant Source from whence she came,
Well might she run, whose Parent was a Stream!

To One Who Pleaded For Candour In Love

© Edith Nesbit

HERE is the dim enchanted wood
Your face, a mystery divine,
But half revealed, half understood,
Appears the counterpart of mine.

To The Rt. Hon. Charlotte Lady Conway, On Her Resolving To Leave Bath.

© Mary Barber

O Charlotte, truly pious, early wise!
The Pleasures sought by others, you despise:
Nor Bath, nor Bath's Allurements thee detain;
Unmov'd, you quit them to the Gay and Vain.

Before Jove's throne, upon Olympus stretched
With hands beneath my head, with careless eyes
Exploring the vasty, vaulted heavens, I'd munch
The rustic straw, or in the fatted form
Of some church-going citizen would yawn
While Hermes or Apollo spake.

Youth

© Arthur Rimbaud

I.
_Sunday_
Problems put by, the inevitable descent of heaven
and the visit of memories and the assembly
of rhythms occupy the house,
the head and the world of the spirit. --

Mutton

© Jonathan Swift

Gently stir and blow the fire,
Lay the mutton down to roast,
Dress it quickly, I desire,
In the dripping put a toast,

The Bonny Brown Hand

© Paul Hamilton Hayne

OH, drearily, how drearily, the sombre eve comes down!
And wearily, how wearily, the seaward breezes blow!
But place your little hand in mine--so dainty, yet so brown!
For household toil hath worn away its rosy-tinted snow:

The Lovers Almanac

© Dora Sigerson Shorter

Oh, hearts that wear the willow,

To you I tell my woe,

Macaws

© Padraic Colum

GREEN wings and yellow breasts on birds that stare

That turn their heads and stare,

Only Roses

© William Schwenck Gilbert

To a garden full of posies

Cometh one to gather flowers;

Must Be Freed

© Lizelia Augusta Jenkins Moorer

The ante-bellum Negro prayed,
For God to intercede,
And God in answer to him said,
"Your children shall be freed."

Do not fret, do not cry, do not tax...

Do not fret, do not cry, do not tax
Your last strength, and your heart do not torture.
You're alive, you're inside me, intact,
As a buttress, a friend, an adventure.

She

Confess to me, whats wrong. Youre in dejection.

- I love, my friend! - Which lady holds you captive?

The Dreamer

© Leon Gellert

He lay within a neat white-sheeted bed,

And stared at distance with his wide young eyes:-

The Pimlico Pavilion

Ye pathrons of janius, Minerva and Vanius,
Who sit on Parnassus, that mountain of snow,
Descind from your station and make observation
Of the Prince's pavilion in sweet Pimlico.