All Poems
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Sonnet XLVIII. To Mrs. ****
© Charlotte Turner Smith
NO more my wearied soul attempts to stray
From sad reality and vain regret,
Nor courts enchanting fiction to allay
Sorrows that sense refuses to forget:
We don't cryTim and I
© Emily Dickinson
We don't cryTim and I,
We are far too grand
But we bolt the door tight
To prevent a friend
To Lydia
© Eugene Field
When, Lydia, you (once fond and true,
But now grown cold and supercilious)
Praise Telly's charms of neck and arms--
Well, by the dog! it makes me bilious!
At William Maclennan's Grave
© Duncan Campbell Scott
Here where the cypress tall
Shadows the stucco wall,
Bronze and deep,
Where the chrysanthemums blow,
And the roses--blood and snow--
He lies asleep.
A Hymn
© Paul Laurence Dunbar
Lead gently, Lord, and slow,
For oh, my steps are weak,
And ever as I go,
Some soothing sentence speak;
The Ballad Of Downal Baun
© Padraic Colum
The moon-cradle's rocking and rocking,
Where a cloud and a cloud goes by:
Silently rocking and rocking,
The moon-cradle out in the sky.
The Rising Of The Moon
© Madison Julius Cawein
THE Day brims high its ewer
Of blue with starry light,
And crowns as King that hewer
Of clouds (which take their flight
The Bill of the Ages
© Henry Lawson
He has rowed to a wreck, when the lifeboat failed, with Jim in a crazy boat;
He has given his lifebelt many a time, and sunk that another might float.
He has stood em off while others escaped, when the niggers rushed from the hill,
And rescue parties who came too late have found what was left of Bill.
In A Railroad Station
© Sara Teasdale
We stood in the shrill electric light,
Dumb and sick in the whirling din
We who had all of love to say
And a single second to say it in.
At Parting
© Edith Nesbit
Go, since you must, but, Dearest, know
That, Honour having bid you go,
Your honour, if your life be spent,
Shall have a costly monument.
The Woman of Whom Satan Had Bound
© George MacDonald
For years eighteen she, patient soul,
Her eyes had graveward sent;
Her earthly life was lapt in dole,
She was so bowed and bent.
The Angel
© Virna Sheard
Down the white ward with slow, unswerving tread
He came ere break of day--
A cowl was drawn about his down-bent head,
His misty robes were grey.
The Magdalen At The Madonnas Shrine
© Rosanna Eleanor Leprohon
O Madonna, pure and holy,
From sins dark stain ever free,
Chaman mein subah yeh kahti
© Khwaja Mir Dard
Chaman mein subah yeh kahti thi ho kar chashm-e-tar shabnam,
Bahaar-e-baagh to yun hi rahi, lekin kidhar shabanam.
