All Poems

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Ole Docteur Fiset

© William Henry Drummond

Ole Docteur Fiset of Saint Anicet,
Sapré tonnerre! he was leev long tam!
I'm sure he's got ninety year or so,
Beat all on de Parish 'cept Pierre Courteau,
An' day affer day he work all de sam'.

Ephesians IV. 30. "Grieve Not The Holy Spirit, &c."

And art thou grieved, sweet and sacred Dove,
When I am sowre,
And crosse thy love?
Grieved for me? the God of strength and power
Griev'd for a worm, which when I tread,
I passe away and leave it dead?

Thec Lanes Of Memory

© Edgar Albert Guest

Adown the lanes of memory bloom all the flowers of yesteryear,
And looking back we smile to see life's bright red roses reappear,
The little sprigs of mignonette that smiled upon us as we passed,
The pansy and the violet, too sweet, we thought those days, to last.

The Forester

© Madison Julius Cawein

I met him here at Ammendorf one Spring.

It was the end of April and the Harz,

Sonnet XXXI: Her Gifts

© Dante Gabriel Rossetti

High grace, the dower of queens; and therewithal

Some wood-born wonder's sweet simplicity;

Dusk In June

© Sara Teasdale

Evening, and all the birds
In a chorus of shimmering sound
Are easing their hearts of joy
For miles around.

The Cloudberry

© Muriel Stuart

Give me no coil of daemon flowers-
Pale Messalines that faint and brood
Through the spent and secret twilight hours
On their strange feasts of blood.

To a Child Blowing Bubbles

© Alaric Alexander Watts

Visions of childhood! oft have ye beguiled
Lone manhood's cares, yet waking fondest sighs:
Ah! that once more I were a careless child! ~ COLERIDGE.

On William Francis Bartlett

© Francis Bret Harte

O poor Romancer--thou whose printed page,
Filled with rude speech and ruder forms of strife,
Was given to heroes in whose vulgar rage
No trace appears of gentler ways and life!--

Goya

© Conrad Aiken

Goya drew a pig on a wall.
The five-year-old hairdressers son
Saw, graved on a silver tray,
The lion; and sunsets were begun.

The Field Of The Grounded Arms, Saratoga

© Fitz-Greene Halleck

STRANGERS! your eyes are on that valley fixed
Intently, as we gaze on vacancy,
When the mind's wings overspread
The spirit-world of dreams.

To All Angels And Saints

© George Herbert

Oh glorious spirits, who after all your bands
See the smooth face of God, without a frown
Or strict commands;
Where ev'ry one is king, and hath his crown,
If not upon his head, yet in his hands:

Old Folks Laugh

© Maya Angelou

They have spent their

content of simpering,

The Soldier's Grave

THERE'S a white stone placed upon yonder tomb,
Beneath is a soldier lying -
The death-wound came, amid sword and plume,
When banner and ball were flying.

The Anchor

In some famed bay of battle when tis plunged with sullen roar,
In the Nile, In Navarino, or by Danish Elsinore,
How deep there shall its slumbers be beneath the sounding waves,
Amid the bones of gallant tars in glorys watery graves.