All Poems
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The Dead
© Charles Heavysege
How great unto the living seem the dead!
How sacred, solemn; how heroic grown;
To Italy. (From Filicaja)
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Italy! Italy! thou who'rt doomed to wear
The fatal gift of beauty and possess
A Garden Of Girls
© Edith Nesbit
KATE is like a violet, Gertrude's like a rose,
Jane is like a gillyflower smart;
Garden Gossip
© Madison Julius Cawein
Thin, chisel-fine a cricket chipped
The crystal silence into sound;
And where the branches dreamed and dripped
A grasshopper its dagger stripped
And on the humming darkness ground.
X: And Must I Sing?
© Benjamin Jonson
And must I sing? what subject shall I chuse?
Or whose great name in Poets heaven use?
For the more countenance to my active Muse?
Mi Corazon Amerita...
© Ramon Lopez Velarde
Mi corazón leal, se amerita en la sombra.
Yo lo sacara al día, como lengua de fuego
que se saca de un ínfimo purgatorio a la luz;
y al oírlo batir su cárcel, yo me anego
y me hundo en ternura remordida de un padre
que siente, entre sus brazos, latir un hijo ciego.
Give Me That Old Time Religion
© Anonymous
Give me that old time religion
Tis the old time religion,
Tis the old time religion,
And it's good enough for me.
Rewi to Grey: The Old Maori Chiefs Last Message
© Henry Lawson
We have lived till these times, brother,
We who lived in this;
Found Wanting
© Carolyn Wells
There lived a wondrous sculptor once, a genius in his way,
Named Phidias Praxiteles Canova Merryday.
He sat within his studio and said, "I really must
Begin a Rhodian anaglyptic ceroplastic bust.
Rocked In The Cradle Of The Deep
© Emma Hart Willard
Rocked in the cradle of the deep
I lay me down in peace to sleep;
The Wind-Harp
© James Russell Lowell
I treasure in secret some long, fine hair
Of tenderest brown, but so inwardly golden
Upon The Death Of Sir Albert Morton's Wife
© Sir Henry Wotton
He first deceased; she for a little tried
To live without him, liked it not, and died.
To An Unfortunate Woman, Whom The Author Had Known In The Days Of Her Innocence
© Samuel Taylor Coleridge
Myrtle leaf, that ill besped
Pinest in the gladsome ray,
Soiled beneath the common tread
Far from thy protecting spray!
While I May
© Sara Teasdale
Wind and hail and veering rain,
Driven mist that veils the day,
Soul's distress and body's pain,
I would bear you while I may.
The King Of Denmark's Sons
© William Morris
In Denmark gone is many a year,
So fair upriseth the rim of the sun,
Two sons of Gorm the King there were,
So grey is the sea when day is done.
Oreheus To Beasts
© Richard Lovelace
I.
Here, here, oh here! EURIDICE,
Here was she slaine;
Her soule 'still'd through a veine:
