All Poems
/ page 1161 of 3210 /The Lemmings
© John Masefield
Once in a hundred years the Lemmings come
Westward, in search of food, over the snow;
The Old Days
© Edgar Albert Guest
WHEN I was but a little tad I used to hear my dear old dad
Tell friends about the good old days forever gone from him;
Sydney Nocturnes.
© Arthur Henry Adams
From The North Shore.
TO Day she would not show her charms;
But now the Night beseeches,
A white reproach of wistful arms
The Desecraters
© Gilbert Keith Chesterton
Witness all: that unrepenting,
Feathers flying, music high,
I go down to death unshaken
By your mean philosophy.
The Lover Of The Queen Of Sheba
© Arthur Symons
To SAROJINI NAIDU
A YOUTH OF SHEBA. THE QUEEN OF SHEBA.
THE HERALD. KING SOLOMON.
Astraea
© John Greenleaf Whittier
"Jove means to settle
Astraea in her seat again,
And let down his golden chain
An age of better metal."
Ben Johnson 1615
"One moment more before that fatal leap!"
© Richard Monckton Milnes
One moment more before that fatal leap!
One moment more! and now thou hadst been free
To wanton in the autumn sun or sleep
In the warmed crystal of thy little sea.
It will be Summereventually
© Emily Dickinson
It will be Summereventually.
Ladieswith parasols
Sauntering Gentlemenwith Canes
And little Girlswith Dolls
Rose and Murray
© Conrad Aiken
After the movie, when the lights come up,
He takes her powdered hand behind the wings;
Forbearance
© Samuel Taylor Coleridge
(Beareth all things.---1 Cor. xiii. 7.)
Gently I took that which ungently came,
And without scorn forgave:--Do thou the same.
The Brook Rhine
© Augusta Davies Webster
SMALL current of the wilds afar from men,
Changing and sudden as a baby's mood;
My Sweet Brown Gal
© Paul Laurence Dunbar
W'EN de clouds is hangin' heavy in de sky,
An' de win's 's a-taihin' moughty vig'rous by,
Sixteenth Sunday After Trinity
© John Keble
Wish not, dear friends, my pain away -
Wish me a wise and thankful heart,
With GOD, in all my griefs, to stay,
Nor from His loved correction start.
John Burns Of Gettysburg
© Francis Bret Harte
So raged the battle. You know the rest:
How the rebels, beaten and backward pressed,
Broke at the final charge, and ran.
At which John Burnsa practical man
Shouldered his rifle, unbent his brows,
And then went back to his bees and cows.
The Red Rose
© Dora Sigerson Shorter
The little red rose tapped at my window
Tapped at my window long years ago;
Sonnet XXIII. By The Same. To The North Star.
© Charlotte Turner Smith
TO thy bright beams I turn my swimming eyes,
Fair, favourite planet, which in happier days
Saw my young hopes, ah, faithless hopes!--arise,
And on my passion shed propitious rays.
Spring Storm
© Fyodor Ivanovich Tyutchev
I love a storm in early May
When springtime's boisterous, firstborn thunder
Over the sky will gaily wander
And growl and roar as though in play.
Oben Vields
© William Barnes
Well, you mid keep the town an' street,
Wi' grassless stwones to beät your veet,
The Martyrs
© Archibald Lampman
Yet still across life's tangled storms we see,
Following the cross, your pale procession led,
One hope, one end, all others sacrificed,
Self-abnegation, love, humility,
Your faces shining toward the bended head,
The wounded hands and patient feet of Christ.
Among The Millet
© Archibald Lampman
The dew is gleaming in the grass,
The morning hours are seven,
And I am fain to watch you pass,
Ye soft white clouds of heaven.