All Poems
/ page 1275 of 3210 /The Silver Swan, Who Living Had No Note
© Orlando Gibbons
The silver swan, who living had no note,
When death approach'd, unlock'd her silent throat;
Leaning her breast against the reedy shore,
Thus sung her first and last, and sung no more.
Farewell, all joys; O Death, come close mine eyes;
More geese than swans now live, more fools than wise.
The Ten Lepers
© Rosanna Eleanor Leprohon
Neath the olives of Samaria, in far-famed Galilee,
Where dark green vines are mirrored in a placid silver sea,
Mid scenes of tranquil beauty, glowing sun-sets, rosy dawn,
The Master and disciples to the city journeyed on.
I Loved Thee
© Alexander Pushkin
I loved thee; and perchance until this moment
Within my breast is smouldering still the fire!
Yet I would spare thy pain the least renewal,
Nothing shall rouse again the old desire!
"I cant prevent myself from singing"
© Thibaut de Champagne
Mercy, my lady, who knows all things!
All goodness and everything worth having
Are yours: more than any woman living.
Help me, now, it is in your giving!
You Have Let The Beauty Of The Day Go Over
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
You have let the beauty of the day go over,
You have let the glory of the noon go by.
Clouds from the West have gathered close and cover
All but a remnant now of our proud sky.
"They Could Not Tell Me..."
© Edwin Muir
They could not tell me who should be my lord,
But I could read from every word they said
Der Groesste Mann
© Gotthold Ephraim Lessing
Lasst uns den Priester Orgon fragen:
Wer ist der groesste Mann?
Mit stolzen Mienen wird er sagen.
Wer sich zum kleinsten machen kann.
God's Vengeance
© John Hay
Saith the Lord, "Vengeance is mine;
I will repay," saith the Lord;
Ours be the anger divine,
Lit by the flash of his word.
My Darlin' Girl From Clare
© William Percy French
We were sittin' on the wall upon a Sunday
To watch the girls go by,
To Carmen Sylva
© Emma Lazarus
Oh, that the golden lyre divine
Whence David smote flame-tones were mine!
LA BOCCA DE-LA-VERITA' (The mouth Of truth)
© Giuseppe Gioacchino Belli
In d'una chiesa sopra a 'na piazzetta
Un po' ppiù ssù de Piazza Montanara
Pe la strada che pporta a la Salara,
C'è in nell'entrà una cosa benedetta.
Nocturnal Vigils
© Alfred Austin
Why do you chide me that, when mortals yield
To slumber's charm, from sleep I ask no boon,
Water-Weeds
© Arthur Symons
What is this that flies with night
On the wings of the night-birds?
Ghost of love, endless delight,
Night's inarticulate words
Come, where water-weeds are cool,
Dip your fingers in the pool,
Hope
© Gamaliel Bradford
When I was a little boy,
I followed hope and slighted joy.
Now my wit has larger scope,
I clutch at joy and heed not hope.
On Giles and Joan
© Benjamin Jonson
Who says that Giles and Joan at discord be?
Th' observing neighbors no such mood can see.
In Memory Of The Unknown Poet, Robert Boardman Vaughn
© Donald Justice
It was his story. It would always be his story.
It followed him; it overtook him finally
The boredom, and the horror, and the glory.