All Poems
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The Tryst
© Madison Julius Cawein
Had fallen a fragrant shower;
The leaves were dripping yet;
Each fern and rain-weighed flower
Around were gleaming wet;
On ev'ry bosky bower
A million gems were set.
The Wail in the Native Oak
© Henry Kendall
Where the lone creek, chafing nightly in the cold and sad moonshine,
Beats beneath the twisted fern-roots and the drenched and dripping vine;
Thoughts Of Christmas-Day In India
© Letitia Elizabeth Landon
IT is Christmas, and the sunshine
Lies golden on the fields,
And flowers of white and purple
Yonder fragrant creeper yields.
Version Of A Fragment Of Simonides
© William Cullen Bryant
The night winds howled--the billows dashed
Against the tossing chest;
And Danae to her broken heart
Her slumbering infant pressed.
The Dance Of The Seven Sins
© Arthur Symons
THE STAGE-MANAGER
It is. Each morning that decays
To midnight ends the world as well,
For the world's day, as that farewell
When, at the ultimate judgment-Stroke,
Heaven too shall vanish in pale smoke.
Dentist Dan
© Sheldon Allan Silverstein
Nentis Nan, he's my man,
I go do im each chanz I gan.
He sicks me down an creans my teed
Wid mabel syrub, tick an' sweed,
Businesse
© George Herbert
Rivers run, and springs each one
Know their home, and get them gone:
Hast thou tears, or hast thou none?
The Children's Hour. (Birds Of Passage. Flight The Second)
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Between the dark and the daylight,
When the night is beginning to lower,
Comes a pause in the day's occupations,
That is known as the Children's Hour.
Twickenham Garden
© John Donne
BLASTED with sighs, and surrounded with tears,
Hither I come to seek the spring,
Die spinnerak-rokkie
© Eugene Marais
'n Feetjie het vir haar
uit spinnerak 'n doek vergaar;
'n rokkie wit as heuningwas
het sy toe aanmekaargelas.
Sense And Spirit
© George Meredith
The senses loving Earth or well or ill
Ravel yet more the riddle of our lot.
A Convict's Lament on the Death of Captain Logan
© Anonymous
I am a native of the land of Erin,
and lately banished from that lovely shore;
I left behind my aged parents
To a Pair of Blucher Boots
© Henry Lawson
OLD acquaintance unforgotten,
Though you may be ugly brutes
Though your leathers cracked and rotten,
Worn-out pair of Blucher boots.
On Leaving A Village In Scotland
© William Lisle Bowles
Clysdale! as thy romantic vales I leave,
And bid farewell to each retiring hill,
Ifs
© Caroline Norton
OH! if the winds could whisper what they hear,
When murmuring round at sunset through the grove;
The Crane is My Neighbour
© John Shaw Neilson
The bird is my neighbour, a whimsical fellow and dim;
There is in the lake a nobility falling on him.
