All Poems

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The Song Of Hiawatha XII: The Son Of The Evening Star

© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Can it be the sun descending

O'er the level plain of water?

More Than Enough by Marge Piercy: American Life in Poetry #10 Ted Kooser, U.S. Poet Laureate 2004-20

The poet and novelist Marge Piercy has a gift for writing about nature. In this poem, springtime has a nearly overwhelming and contagious energy, capturing the action-filled drama of spring. More Than Enough

The first lily of June opens its red mouth.
All over the sand road where we walk
multiflora rose climbs trees cascading
white or pink blossoms, simple, intense
the scene drifting like colored mist.

Wood Notes

© Madison Julius Cawein

I.

There is a flute that follows me

I Step Outside Myself

© Ingeborg Bachmann

I step outside

myself, out of my eyes,

Sadness

© George Borrow

Lo, a pallid fleecy vapour

Far along the East is spread;

As In The Globe Embraced By Ocean

© Fyodor Ivanovich Tyutchev

As is the globe embraced by ocean, so
Embraced is earthly life by dreams and fancies.
Night comes unsought, and at the shore's defences
The breakers strike blow after blow.

Bora Ring

© Judith Wright

The song is gone; the dance
is secret with the dancers in the earth,
the ritual useless, and the tribal story
lost in an alien tale.

Love

© Alexander Smith

THE fierce exulting worlds, the motes in rays,
The churlish thistles, scented briers,
The wind-swept bluebells on the sunny braes,
Down to the central fires,

The Close Of The Session

© Robert Fuller Murray

The Session's over. We must say farewell
To these east winds and to this eastern sea,
For summer comes, with swallow and with bee,
With many a flower and many a golfing swell.

What Is To Come

© William Ernest Henley

What is to come we know not. But we know
That what has been was good--was good to show,
Better to hide, and best of all to bear.
We are the masters of the days that were:
We have lived, we have loved, we have suffered . . . even so.

The Old Trundle-Bed

© James Whitcomb Riley

O the old trundle-bed where I slept when a boy!

What canopied king might not covet the joy?

Men and Women

© James Kenneth Stephen

. IN THE BACKS.
As I was strolling lonely in the Backs,
I met a woman whom I did not like.
I did not like the way the woman walked:

Nature

© James Beattie

O how canst thou renounce the boundless store

Of charms which Nature to her votary yields!

The Library

© John Greenleaf Whittier

"Let there be light!" God spake of old,
And over chaos dark and cold,
And through the dead and formless frame
Of nature, life and order came.

Psalm IV.

© John Milton

Answer me when I call
God of my righteousness;
In straights and in distress
Thou didst me disinthrall
And set at large; now spare,
Now pity me, and hear my earnest prai'r.

The Window

At my window, late and early,

In the sunshine and the rain,

Girl At Midnight

© Weldon Kees

But I must dream once more of cities burned away,
Corrupted wood, and silence on the piers.
Love is a sickroom with the roof half gone
Where nights go down in a continual rain.