All Poems

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What doth it serve

© William Henry Drummond

What doth it serve to see sun's burning face,

And skies enamelled with both the Indies' gold?

In Time of Sickness

© Robert Fuller Murray

Lost Youth, come back again!
Laugh at weariness and pain.
Come not in dreams, but come in truth,
Lost Youth.

Harlie

© James Whitcomb Riley

Fold the little waxen hands

Lightly. Let your warmest tears

It's a bigger thing you're doing than the most of us have done;
We have lived the days of pleasure; now the gray days have begun,
And upon your manly shoulders fall the burdens of the strife;
Yours must be the sacrifices of the trial time of life.
Oh, I don't know how to say it, but I'll never think of you
Without wishing I were sharing in the work you have to do.

The Jewish Cemetery At Newport. (Birds Of Passage. Flight The First)

© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

The very names recorded here are strange,
Of foreign accent, and of different climes;
Alvares and Rivera interchange
With Abraham and Jacob of old times.

The Charter;

© Helen Maria Williams

ADDRESSED
TO MY NEPHEW
ATHANASE C. L. COQUEREL,
ON HIS WEDDING DAY, 1819.

Asleep In The Valley

© Arthur Rimbaud

A small green valley where a slow stream flows
And leaves long strands of silver on the bright
Grass; from the mountaintop stream the Sun's
Rays; they fill the hollow full of light.

The Way Home

© Robert Laurence Binyon

Many dreams I have dreamed
That are all now gone.
The world, mirrored in a dark pool,
How unearthly it shone!

A Prologue To The Scholars. A Comaedy Presented At The White Fryers

© Richard Lovelace

A gentleman, to give us somewhat new,

Hath brought up OXFORD with him to show you;

The Microbe's Serenade

© George Ade

"O lovely metamorphic germ,
What futile scientific term
Can well describe your many charms?
Come to these embryonic arms,
Then hie away to my cellular home,
And be my little diatom!"

The Little Flock

© Katharine Tynan

CHRIST, now keep the little flock
Which Thou bad'st not to fear:
Childing women and old folk
And the little children dear.

The Blue Ridge

© Harriet Monroe

STILL and calm,
In purple robes of kings,
The low-lying mountains sleep at the edge of the world.
The forests cover them like mantles;
Day and night
Rise and fall over them like the wash of waves.

Alcide "Slow Drag" Pavageau

© William Matthews

Walking with Jesus the slow,
behind the beat. Mr. Resistance.
Mr. Ohm, Mr. Exactly Lame.

'Tis Said, That Some Have Died For Love

© William Wordsworth

'Tis said, that some have died for love:

And here and there a churchyard grave is found

The Canterbury Tales; the Wyves tale of Bathe

Part 19

The Fun Of Forgiving

Sometimes I'm almost glad to hear when I get home that they've been bad;
And though I try to look severe, within my heart I'm really glad
When mother sadly tells to me the list of awful things they've done,
Because when they come tearfully, forgiving them is so much fun.