All Poems

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Toilet Of A Dandy

© Kenneth Slessor

TRANSPORTS of filed nerves; a wistful cough;
One sensual hairbrush reluctantly concludes
The Great Harry's excruciations and beatitudes,
Delicately and gravely putting things on and off.

A Captain Of The Press Gang

© Bliss William Carman

SHIPMATE, leave the ghostly shadows,
Where thy boon companions throng!
We will put to sea together
Through the twilight with a song.

Arabesque

© Emma Lazarus

On a background of pale gold

I would trace with quaint design,

Easter Eve

© John Keble

At length the worst is o'er, and Thou art laid

Deep in Thy darksome bed;

Goldsmith wrote Deserted Village,
Now again reduced to tillage;
Once happiest village of the plain,
Place now you look for it in vain;
There but one man he doth make rich,
And hundreds struggle in the ditch;

Andy Veto

© Henry Clay Work

Come! Come! Joshua, come!
Don't you think it's time the journey closes?
For you know we'll never stand in the promised land
While Andy Veto's our Moses.

Actors Waiting In The Wings Of Europe (incomplete)

© Keith Douglas

Actors waiting in the wings of Europe
we already watch the lights on the stage
and listen to the colossal overture begin.
For us entering at the height of the din
it will be hard to hear our thoughts, hard to gauge
how much our conduct owes to fear or fury.

Questions

© Edgar Albert Guest

Would you sell your boy for a stack of gold?

Would you miss that hand that is yours to hold?

Dreams

© Madison Julius Cawein

My thoughts have borne me far away

To Beauties of an older day,

To The Countess Of Blessington

© George Gordon Byron

You have ask'd for a verse:--the request
In a rhymer 'twere strange to deny;
But my Hippocrene was but my breast,
And my feelings (its fountain) are dry.

In Carissimam Memoriam A.S.P.

© Robert Laurence Binyon

To whom but thee, my youth to dedicate,
My youth, which these few leaves have sought to save,
Should I now come, although I come too late,
Alas! and can but lay them on thy grave?

Thy Mustard Is Keen And Thy Branston Is Sticky But Piquant

© Seamus Justin Heaney

Pies

Are without substance when

Autumn

© William Watson

Thou burden of all songs the earth hath sung,

Thou retrospect in Time's reverted eyes,

Sleep

© Mathilde Blind

To thee, O star-eyes comforter, we creep,
Earth's ill-used step-children to thee make moan,
As hiding in thy dark skirts' ample sweep;
-Poor debtors whose brief life is not their own;
For dunned by Death, to whom we owe its loan,
Give us, O Night, the interest paid in sleep.

The World's Wanderers

I.
Tell me, thou Star, whose wings of light
Speed thee in thy fiery flight,
In what cavern of the night
Will thy pinions close now?

Harmonie du soir (Evening Harmony)

Voici venir les temps où vibrant sur sa tige
Chaque fleur s'évapore ainsi qu'un encensoir;
Les sons et les parfums tournent dans l'air du soir;
Valse mélancolique et langoureux vertige!

The Wrestlers

© Wilfred Owen

So neck to neck and obstinate knee to knee

Wrestled those two; and peerless Heracles

Her Coming

See where she issues in her beauty's pomp,

As Flora to salute the morning sun;

Vanitas Vanitatum, Omnia Vanitas

© Anne Brontë

In all we do, and hear, and see,
Is restless Toil and Vanity.
While yet the rolling earth abides,
Men come and go like ocean tides;

She Has Made Me Wayside Posies

Oh blossoms of the paths she loves to tread,
Some grace of her is in all thoughts you bear:
For in my memories of your homes that were
The old sweet loneliness they kept is fled,
And would I think it back I find instead
A presence of my darling mingling there.