All Poems
/ page 1226 of 3210 /
The Rainbow
© James Thomson
Moist, bright, and green, the landscape laughs around.
Full swell the woods; their every music wakes,
Mix'd in wild concert, with the warbling brooks
Increased, the distant bleatings of the hills,
Ode To The Poppy
© Charlotte Turner Smith
Written by a deceased friend.
NOT for the promise of the labour'd field,
Hesperus The Bringer
© Sappho
O Hesperus, thou bringest all good things--
Home to the weary, to the hungry cheer,
Girl To A Soldier On leave
© Isaac Rosenberg
Girl To A Soldier On Leave
Love! You love me your eyes
Have looked through death at mine.
You have tempted a grave too much
I let you I repine.
On An Edinburgh Advocate
© Robert Fuller Murray
In youth with diligence he toiled
A Roman nose to gain,
But though a decent pug was spoiled,
A pug it did remain.
Yonder He Goes!
© William Henry Ogilvie
Always our fathers were hunters, lords of the pitiless spear,
Chasing in English woodlands the wild white ox and the deer,
Kind Sir: These Woods
© Anne Sexton
Kind Sir: This is an old game
that we played when we were eight and ten.
Laughter Holding Both His Sides
© James Whitcomb Riley
Ay, thou varlet! Laugh away!
All the world's a holiday!
A Parting Song
© Felicia Dorothea Hemans
When will ye think of me, my friends?
When will ye think of me?
Uncontrolled
© Wilcox Ella Wheeler
The mighty forces of mysterious space
Are one by one subdued by lordly man.
The Fairie's Fair
© Zora Bernice May Cross
Whos that dancing on the moonlight air,
Heel tapping, Toe-heel rapping?
Hymns to the Night : 4
© Novalis
Now I know when will come the last morning - when the Light no more scares away Night and Love - when sleep shall be without waking, and but one continuous dream. I feel in me a celestial exhaustion. Long and weariful was my pilgrimage to the holy grave, and crushing was the cross. The crystal wave, which, imperceptible to the ordinary sense, springs in the dark bosom of the mound against whose foot breaks the flood of the world, he who has tasted it, he who has stood on the mountain frontier of the world, and looked across into the new land, into the abode of the Night - truly he turns not again into the tumult of the world, into the land where dwells the Light in ceaseless unrest.
On those heights he builds for himself tabernacles - tabernacles of peace, there longs and loves and gazes across, until the welcomest of all hours draws him down into the waters of the spring - afloat above remains what is earthly, and is swept back in storms, but what became holy by the touch of love, runs free through hidden ways to the region beyond, where, like fragrances, it mingles with love asleep.
A Winter's Day
© Paul Laurence Dunbar
Across the hills and down the narrow ways,
And up the valley where the free winds sweep,
Sonnett - XVIII
© James Russell Lowell
THE SAME CONTINUED
Therefore think not the Past is wise alone,
In The Month When Sings The Cuckoo
© Alfred Austin
But if now I slept, I should sleep to wake
To the sleepless pang and the dreamless ache,
To the wild babe blossom within my heart,
To the darkening terror and swelling smart,
To the searching look and the words apart,
And the hint of the tell-tale cuckoo.
Living
© William Dean Howells
HOW passionately I will my life away
Which I would give all that I have to stay;
How wildly I hurry, for the change I crave.
To hurl myself into the changeless grave!
