All Poems

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A Ballad Of Nursery Rhyme

© Robert Graves

Strawberries that in gardens grow
Are plump and juicy fine,
But sweeter far as wise men know
Spring from the woodland vine.

Two Hundred Years Ago

© William Henry Drummond

But He watch dem, le bon Dieu, for He's got
some work to do,
An He won't trus' ev'ry body, no siree!
Only full blood Canadien, lak Marquette an'
Hennepin,
An' w'at you t'ink of Louis Verandrye?

Song #2.

© Robert Crawford

Have I not touched thy spirit?
Have I not heard it sing?
And can my love inherit
A purer, sweeter thing?

A Song Of Trafalgar

© Edith Nesbit

LIKE an angry sun, like a splendid star,

War gleams down the long years' track;

Sonnet XII.

© Charlotte Turner Smith

Written on the Sea Shore, Oct. 1784.
ON some rude fragment of the rocky shore,
Where on the fractured cliff the billows break,
Musing, my solitary seat I take,

The passion you forbade my lips to utter
Will not be silenced. You must hear it in
The sullen thunders when they roll and mutter:
And when the tempest nears, with wail and din,
I know your calm forgetfulness is broken,
And to your heart you whisper, "He has spoken."

The Burden Of Strength

© George Meredith

If that thou hast the gift of strength, then know
Thy part is to uplift the trodden low;
Else in a giant's grasp until the end
A hopeless wrestler shall thy soul contend.

To Eva

© Joseph Rodman Drake

A BEAM upon the myrtle fell
From dewy evening's purest sky,
'Twas like the glance I love so well,
Dear Eva, from thy moonlight eye.

Song A-La-Mode

© Sir Charles Sedley

O'er the Desert, cross the Meadows,

Hunters blew the merry Horn ;

Poesia

© Pablo Neruda

Y fue a esa edad... Llegó la poesía
a buscarme. No sé, no sé de dónde
salió, de invierno o río.
No sé cómo ni cuándo,

Not A Sparrow Falleth But Its God Doth Know

© Louisa May Alcott

"Not a sparrow falleth but its God doth know,

Just as when his mandate lays a monarch low;

Indian Summer

© Emily Dickinson

These are the days when Birds come back
A very fewa Bird or two
To take a backward look.

A Pitcher of Mignonette

© Henry Cuyler Bunner

A pitcher of mignonette

In a tenement's highest casement,

I Am Going To Sleep (Suicide Poem)

© Alfonsina Storni

Teeth of flowers, hairnet of dew,
hands of herbs, you, perfect wet nurse,
prepare the earthly sheets for me
and the down quilt of weeded moss.

At The Fall Of An Age

(The story of Achilles rising from the dead for love of Helen

is well enough known. That of Polyxo's vengeance may be less

Regret For The Departure Of Friends

As smoke from a volcano soars in the air,
The soul of man discontent mounts from a sigh,
Exhaled as to heaven in mystical prayer,
Invoking that love which forbids him to die.

The Lord of the Isles: Canto IV.

I.

Stranger! if e'er thine ardent step hath traced

The Things

© Conrad Aiken

The house in Broad Street, red brick, with nine rooms
the weedgrown graveyard with its rows of tombs
the jail from which imprisoned faces grinned
at stiff palmettos flashing in the wind