All Poems

/ page 1140 of 3210 /

Order by :

Offering And Rebuff

© Carl Sandburg

I could love you
as dry roots love rain.
I could hold you
as branches in the wind
brandish petals.
Forgive me for speaking so soon.

Craven-Heart

© Ada Cambridge

Those anguished voices in the air!
Oh, I could shriek and tear my hair
In rage, rebellion and despair.

Once More Into My Arid Days Like Dew

© Edna St. Vincent Millay

Once more into my arid days like dew,

Like wind from an oasis, or the sound

There are many kinds of love, as many kinds of light,
And every kind of love makes a glory in the night.
There is love that stirs the heart, and love that gives it rest,
But the love that leads life upward is the noblest and the best.

A Geological Madrigal

© Francis Bret Harte

I have found out a gift for my fair;

I know where the fossils abound,

How Tuneful Is The Voice Of Sea

© Fyodor Ivanovich Tyutchev

How tuneful is the voice of sea,
What true accord in ocean's murmur,
And in the reed's light, rhythmic tremour
What tender musicality!

Voices Of The Night : L'Envoi

© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Ye voices, that arose
After the Evening's close,
And whispered to my restless heart repose!

Beyond

© Katharine Lee Bates

COLOSSAL orb of space,

Sparkling with diamond

Oxford

© Gerald Gould

I came to Oxford in the light
Of a spring-coloured afternoon;
Some clouds were grey and some were white,
And all were blown to such a tune
Of quiet rapture in the sky,
I laughed to see them laughing by.

Under The Banners Of Melancholy

© Millosh Gjergj Nikolla

The banners

A Dialogue betwixt himself and Mistress Eliza Wheeler, under the name of Amarillis

© Robert Herrick

My dearest Love, since thou wilt go,
And leave me here behind thee;
For love or pity, let me know
The place where I may find thee.

In A Letter To C. P. Esq. In Imitation Of Shakspeare

Trust me the meed of praise, dealt thriftily

From the nice scale of judgement, honours more

A Good World

IT'S a good old world we're livin' in

With all its pain an' sorrow;

An Officer Sets Forth His Hard Lot

© Confucius

My way leads forth by the gate on the north;
My heart is full of woe.
I hav'n't a cent, begged, stolen, or lent,
And friends forget me so.
So let it be! 'tis Heaven's decree.
What can I say--a poor fellow like me?

Scala Jacobi Portaque Eburnea

Her soul from earth to Heaven lies,
Like the ladder of the vision,
Whereon go
To and fro,
In ascension and demission,
Star-flecked feet of Paradise.

Happy is he who loves companionship,
And lights on thee, Luigi. Thee I found,
Playing at Mora on the cabin-roof
With Punchinello. -- 'Tis a game to strike