All Poems

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"I could not among the misty clouds"

© Osip Emilevich Mandelstam

I could not among the misty clouds
Your unstable and painful image catch,
"Oh, my God", I promptly said aloud,
Having not a thought these words to fetch.

Grandfather sleeps in his grave;
Strange steps resound in the hall!
And there's that vain, stuck-up thing
(tick, tick, tick, tick, tick, tick, tick, tick),
There's that vain, stuck-up thing on the wall.

The Rose

© James Whitcomb Riley

It tossed its head at the wooing breeze;
And the sun, like a bashful swain,
Beamed on it through the waving trees
With a passion all in vain,--
For my rose laughed in a crimson glee,
And hid in the leaves in wait for me.

The Clay

© Jones Very

Thou shalt do what Thou wilt with thine own hand,

Thou form'st the spirit like the moulded clay;

The Women Who Ministered Unto Him

© George MacDonald

Enough he labours for his hire;
Yea, nought can pay his pain;
But powers that wear and waste and tire,
Need help to toil again.

The Garret

© Paul Laurence Dunbar

Within a London garret high,

Above the roofs and near the sky,

The Angel In The House. Book I. Canto VII.

© Coventry Kersey Dighton Patmore

Preludes.

I Love's Immortality

Soul In The Ignorance

© Sri Aurobindo

Soul in the Ignorance, wake from its stupor.
Flake of the world-fire, spark of Divinity,
Lift up thy mind and thy heart into glory.
Sun in the darkness, recover thy lustre.

Elegy to the Old Man Hokuju

© Yosa Buson

You left in the morning, at evening my heart is in a
thousand pieces.
Why is it so far away?

Salutation

© Katharine Tynan

To you and you and you who have given
Two sons for England's sake,--what word?
Oh, there is weeping heard in Heaven
And Mary's heart has the Eighth Sword.

The Bull

© Judith Wright

In the olive darkness of the sally-trees
silently moved the air from night to day.
The summer-grass was thick with honey daisies
where he, a curled god, a red Jupiter,
heavy with power among his women lay.

I See so Deeply Within Myself

© Mewlana Jalaluddin Rumi

I see so deeply within myself.
Not needing my eyes, I can see everything clearly.
Why would I want to bother my eyes again
Now that I see the world through His eyes?

March

© Archibald Lampman

Talk before bed-time of bold deeds together,
Of thefts and fights, of hard-times and the weather,
Till sleep disarm them, to each little brain
Bringing tucked wings and many a blissful dream,
Visions of wind and sun, of field and stream,
And busy barn-yards with their scattered grain.

England My Mother

England my mother,
Wardress of waters.
Builder of peoples,
Maker of men,-

Rain in the Mountains

© Henry Lawson

The sky is of a leaden grey,
Save where the north is surly,
The driven daylight speeds away,
And night comes oer us early.

Thought-Magnets

With each strong thought, with every earnest longing

For aught thou deemest needful to thy soul,

Impentitent Ultima

Before my light goes out for ever if God should give me a choice of
graces,
I would not reck of length of days, nor crave for things to be;
But cry: "One day of the great lost days, one face of all the faces,
Grant me to see and touch once more and nothing more to see.

Radiator by Connie Wanek: American Life in Poetry #52 Ted Kooser, U.S. Poet Laureate 2004-2006

© Ted Kooser

What a marvelous gift is the imagination, and each of us gets one at birth, free of charge and ready to start up, get on, and ride away. Can there be anything quite so homely and ordinary as a steam radiator? And yet, here, Connie Wanek, of Duluth, Minnesota, nudges one into play. Radiator

Mittens are drying on the radiator,
boots nearby, one on its side.
Like some monstrous segmented insect
the radiator elongates under the window.

XV

"Say that a knight, who holds in great disdain