All Poems

/ page 1125 of 3210 /

Order by :

The Pleasures of Ordinary Life

© Judith Viorst

I've had my share of necessary losses,
Of dreams I know no longer can come true.
I'm done now with the whys and the becauses.
It's time to make things good, not just make do.
It's time to stop complaining and pursue
The pleasures of an ordinary life.

Recuerdo

© Franklin Pierce Adams

We were very tired, we were very merry-
We had gone back and forth all night on the ferry.
It was bare and bright, and smelled like a stable-
But we looked into a fire, we leaned across a table,
We lay on a hilltop underneath the moon;
And the whistles kept blowing, and the dawn came soon.

Then And Now

© Paul Laurence Dunbar

He loved her, and through many years,
Had paid his fair devoted court,
Until she wearied, and with sneers
Turned all his ardent love to sport.

In A Churchyard

© George MacDonald

There may be seeming calm above, but no!-

There is a pulse below which ceases not,

Maryette Myers

© Julia A Moore

Come all you sympathizing friends, wherever you may be,
I pray you pay attention and listen unto me;
For it's of a fair young lady, she died, she went to rest,
She was called handsome Maryette, the lily of the west.

The Endless Lure

© Harry Kemp

When I was a lad I went to sea
And they made a cabin boy of me.
Yo ho, haul away, my bullies!
We'd hardly put out from the bay
When my knees sagged in and my face turned grey;

Geraint And Enid

© Alfred Tennyson

Then Enid pondered in her heart, and said:
'I will go back a little to my lord,
And I will tell him all their caitiff talk;
For, be he wroth even to slaying me,
Far liefer by his dear hand had I die,
Than that my lord should suffer loss or shame.'

A description of olde Rome

© Roger Cotton

Thou Rome, thy Armes Saint Iohn hath blasd,
most cleare and playne to see:
Thou Rome dost stand on seauen hils,
what Citie olde but thee?

Shearing's Coming

© David McKee Wright

There's a sound of many voices in the camp and on the track,
And letters coming up in shoals to stations at the back;
And every boat that crosses from the sunny 'other side'
Is bringing waves of shearers for the swelling of the tide.

A Hymn On Contentment

© Thomas Parnell

Lovely lasting Peace appear;
This World it self, if thou art here,
Is once again with Eden bless'd,
And Man contains it in his Breast.

Grandmother Told Me So

© Henry Clay Work

American Eagle! hysterical bird!
Oh, flap your wing and crow!
The slaves are embellished-yes, that's the word,
For Grandmother told me so!

In Memory

© Robert Laurence Binyon

Home from the wounds of Earth and wasting Time
The marvel of her beauty and morning prime
She has taken, glorious with the dew of youth
Still on her thoughts, those thoughts that from her eyes

The Creek of the Four Graves [Early Version]

© Charles Harpur

And feeling thus by habit, that poor man
Though the black shadow of untimely death
Hopelessly thickened under every stroke,
Upstruggled desperate, until at last,
One, as in mercy, gave him to the dust,
With all his sorrows.

To H. C.

© William Wordsworth

SIX YEARS OLD
O THOU! whose fancies from afar are brought;
Who of thy words dost make a mock apparel,
And fittest to unutterable thought

A Boston Ballad

© Walt Whitman

Clear the way there, Jonathan!
Way for the President's marshal! Way for the government cannon!
Way for the Federal foot and dragoons-and the apparitions copiously
tumbling.

A Womans Sonnets: II

Nay, dear one, ask me not to leave thee yet.
Let me a little longer hold thy hand.
Too soon it is to bid me to forget
The joys I was so late to understand.

The Passing Of The Beautiful

On southern winds shot through with amber light,

Breeding soft balm, and clothed in cloudy white,

Ownerless

He comes when the gullies are wrapped in the gloaming
And limelights are trained on the tops of the gums,
To stand at the sliprails, awaiting the homing
Of one who marched off to the beat of the drums.

Sappho I

MIDNIGHT, and in the darkness not a sound,
So, with hushed breathing, sleeps the autumn night;
Only the white immortal stars shall know,
Here in the house with the low-lintelled door,