All Poems
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Modern Greece
© Richard Monckton Milnes
As, in the legend which our childhood loved,
The destined prince was guided to the bed,
Where, many a silent year, the charmèd Maid
Lay still, as though she were not; nor could wake,
Second Love
© Dorothy Parker
How shall I count the midnights I have known
When calm you turn to me, nor feel me start,
To find my easy lips upon your own
And know my breast beneath your rhythmic heart.
Your god defer the day I tell you this:
My lad, my lad, it is not you I kiss!
Playing For Keeps
© Edgar Albert Guest
I've watched him change from his bibs and things, from bonnets known as "cute,"
To little frocks, and later on I saw him don a suit;
Flower in the Crannied Wall
© Alfred Tennyson
Flower in the crannied wall,
I pluck you out of the crannies,
I hold you here, root and all, in my hand,
Little flower-but if I could understand
What you are, root and all, all in all,
I should know what God and man is.
The Dead Coach
© Katharine Tynan
At night when sick folk wakeful lie,
I heard the dead coach passing by,
And heard it passing wild and fleet,
And knew my time was come not yet.
Angelique
© Heinrich Heine
Although you hurried coldly past me,
Your eyes looked backward and askance;
Your lips were curiously parted,
Though stormy pride was in your glance.
The Wild Ride
© Louise Imogen Guiney
The trail is through dolor and dread, over crags and morasses;
There are shapes by the way, there are things that appal or entice us:
What odds? We are Knights of the Grail, we are vowed to the riding.
Say Goodbye when your Chum is Married
© Henry Lawson
Now this is a rhyme that might well be carried
Gummed in your hat till the end of things:
Lost Mr. Blake
© William Schwenck Gilbert
He was quite indifferent as to the particular kinds of dresses
That the clergyman wore at church where he used to go to pray,
And whatever he did in the way of relieving a chap's distresses,
He always did in a nasty, sneaking, underhanded, hole-and-corner
sort of way.
Life And Death
© Christina Georgina Rossetti
Life is not sweet. One day it will be sweet
To shut our eyes and die:
Virgils Gnat
© Edmund Spenser
And whatsoeuer other flowre of worth,
And whatso other hearb of louely hew
The iouyous Spring out of the ground brings forth,
To cloath her selfe in colours fresh and new;
He planted there, and reard a mount of earth,
In whose high front was writ as doth ensue.
How Lucy Backslid
© Paul Laurence Dunbar
De times is mighty stirrin' 'mong de people up ouah way,
Dey 'sputin' an' dey argyin' an' fussin' night an' day;
An' all dis monst'ous trouble dat hit meks me tiahed to tell
Is 'bout dat Lucy Jackson dat was sich a mighty belle.
John Bunny, Motion Picture Comedian
© Vachel Lindsay
Yorick is dead. Boy Hamlet walks forlorn
Beneath the battlements of Elsinore.
Where are those oddities and capers now
That used to set the table on a roar?
Tired
© Augusta Davies Webster
No not to-night, dear child; I cannot go;
I'm busy, tired; they knew I should not come;
you do not need me there. Dear, be content,
and take your pleasure; you shall tell me of it.
There, go to don your miracles of gauze,
and come and show yourself a great pink cloud.
The Aungeles Song & Alle Othir Seintes In The Feste Of Pentecost.
© Thomas Hoccleve
HOnured be thu, holy gost in hie, That vn-to poeple of so pore astatehast youe thi grace, to stondë myghtelyAgeyn tyrauntës fiers & obstynate,ffor to endwe them with thi principate To leve hire erroure, & hire liffe to amende:honured be thu, lord, with-owt[en] ende!
Thu gave hem wete & cunnyng [for] to preche, And corage for to stand[ë] be the lawe,Alle maner poepil, to wisshe & to teche,ffrom vices alle hir lustës to with-drawe,And of hire lord [&] god to stande in awe, To his pleasaunce hire hertës to intende:Honured be thu, lord, with-owt[en] ende!
Sonnet 26: Though Dusty Wits
© Sir Philip Sidney
Though dusty wits dare scorn astrology,
And fools can think those lamps of purest light
Whose numbers, ways, greatness, eternity,
Promising wonders, wonder do invite,
