All Poems

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Don Juan: Canto The Fifth

© George Gordon Byron

When amatory poets sing their loves

In liquid lines mellifluously bland,

Discretion

© Edith Nesbit

AH, turn your pretty eyes away!
You would not have me love again?
Love's pleasure does not live a day,
Immortal is Love's pain,
And I am tired of pain.

Stuttered-Over-Again World

© Paul Celan

Stuttered-over-again World,
where I shall have been
a Guest, a Name,
sweated down from the Wall,
that a Wound licks up.

The Hunchback In The Park

© Dylan Thomas

The hunchback in the park
A solitary mister
Propped between trees and water
From the opening of the garden lock
That lets the trees and water enter
Until the Sunday sombre bell at dark

Saint Mar Magdelene; or, The Weeper

© Richard Crashaw

Hail, sister springs,
Parents of silver-footed rills!
Ever bubbling things,
Thawing crystal, snowy hills!
Still spending, never spent; I mean
Thy fair eyes, sweet Magdalene.

Song: "Let no Shepherd sing to me "

© Henry James Pye

Let no Shepherd sing to me

The stupid praise of Constancy,

My Country, though rude yet, and wild, be thy nature,
This alone our proud love should beget and command:
There's noon in thy broad breast for Manhood's full stature,
And honest Endeavour's a lord in the land.

Allez, Mes Ver, Allez

© André Marie de Chénier

Allez, mes vers, allez; je me confie en vous;

Allez fléchir son coeur, désarmer son courroux;

Love Sonnet X

© Zora Bernice May Cross

And still I smiled and kissed you with a sob.
My lips on yours, I heard, high up above
Loves feet ring laughter on the starry sod
And felt the echo through our bosoms throb.
Beloved, Science ends in our pure love
Which shares alone the secrets of our God.

The Gypsy

© Edward Thomas

A fortnight before Christmas Gypsies were everywhere:

Vans were drawn up on wastes, women trailed to the fair.

The Sheperd Bwoy

© William Barnes

When the warm zummer breeze do blow over the hill,

An' the vlock's a-spread over the ground;

Magpies

© Judith Wright

Along the road the magpies walk
with hands in pockets, left and right.
They tilt their heads, and stroll and talk.
In their well-fitted black and white.

Spring On The Alban Hills

© Alice Meynell

O'er the Campagna it is dim warm weather;
The Spring comes with a full heart silently,
And many thoughts; a faint flash of the sea
Divides two mists; straight falls the falling feather.

The Birds

The world begins again!

Not wholly insufflated

Work

WHAT are we set on earth for ? Say, to toil;

Nor seek to leave thy tending of the vines

The Return of the Year

Again the warm bare earth, the noon
That hangs upon her healing scars,
The midnight round, the great red moon,
The mother with her brood of stars,

ODE, for Palatine Tune.

© Mather Byles

I.

Heav'nly Love, our Bosoms seize!

A Meditation

How often in the years that close,
When truce had stilled the sieging gun,
The soldiers, mounting on their works,
With mutual curious glance have run
From face to face along the fronting show,
And kinsman spied, or friend--even in a foe.