All Poems

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Her First Season

© William Michael Rossetti

He gazed her over, from her eyebrows down

Even to her feet: he gazed so with the good

Thy happy years of deep affection past,
Cartouche! our faithful friend, rest hereat last.
We loved thee for a love man scarce might mate;
And now we place thee here with sadness, great
As man may own for brute. Might less be given
To love so pure as thine and so unriven?

Epigram

© Thomas Parnell

The greatest Gifts that Nature does bestow,

Can't unassisted to Perfection grow:

The Temple of Fame

© Alexander Pope

In that soft season, when descending show'rs

Call forth the greens, and wake the rising flow'rs;

A Song

© Mikhail Lermontov

Dry leaf trembling on the branches

Before the blast,

To The Memory Of Hood

© James Russell Lowell

Another star 'neath Time's horizon dropped,
To gleam o'er unknown lands and seas;
Another heart that beat for freedom stopped,--
What mournful words are these!

Mr. William Crowes Address To Her Majesty, Turned Into Metre

© Jonathan Swift

From a town that consists of a church and a steeple,
With three or four houses, and as many people,
There went an Address in great form and good order,
Composed, as 'tis said, by Will Crowe, their Recorder.

A Farewell

© Samuel Rogers

Once more, enchanting girl, adieu!
I must be gone while yet I may,
Oft shall I weep to think of you;
But here I will not, cannot stay.

Anactoria

© Sappho

of the life we shared here, when you seemed
the Goddess incarnate
to her and your singing pleased her best

Caliban Upon Rudiments Or Autoschediastic Theology In A Hole

© Sir Arthur Quiller-Couch

Rudiments, Rudiments, and Rudiments!

'Thinketh one made them i' the fit o' the blues.

The Australian Bell-Bird

© Jean Ingelow

And 'Oyez, Oyez' following after me
On my great errand to the sundown went.
Lost, lost, and lost, whenas the cross road flee
Up tumbled hills, on each for eyes attent
A carriage creepeth.

'Tis The Set Of The Sail -- Or -- One Ship Sails East

© Wilcox Ella Wheeler

But to every mind there openeth,
A way, and way, and away,
A high soul climbs the highway,
And the low soul gropes the low,
And in between on the misty flats,
The rest drift to and fro.

Thefts of the Morning

© Edith Matilda Thomas

BIND us the Morning, mother of the stars
And of the winds that usher in the day!
Ere her light fingers slide the eastern bars,
A netted snare before her footsteps lay;
Ere the pale roses of the mist be strown,
Bind us the Morning, and restore our own!

The Windhover

Brute beauty and valour and act, oh, air, pride, plume, here
Buckle! AND the fire that breaks from thee then, a billion
Times told lovelier, more dangerous, O my chevalier!

Grammarye

© John Kenyon

"Argantyr! awakeawake
Hervor bids thy slumbers fly.
Magic chords around thee break;
Argantyr! replyreply."

Ad Lesbiam, Cat. Ep. 73

AD LESBIAM, CAT. EP. 73.
Dicebas quondam, solum to nosse Catullum,
Lesbia, nec prae me velle tenere Jovem;
Dilexi tum te, non tantum ut vulgus amicam,

It Was A Famous Victory

It was a summer evening;
Old Kaspar was at home,
Sitting before his cottage door-
Like in the Southey pome-
And near him, with a magazine,
Idled his grandchild, Geraldine.

In A Restaurant

The darkened street was muffled with the snow,
The falling flakes had made your shoulders white,
And when we found a shelter from the night
Its glamor fell upon us like a blow.