All Poems

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At Long Bay

© Henry Kendall

FIVE years ago! you cannot choose
But know the face of change,
Though July sleeps and Spring renews
The gloss in gorge and range.

The Frontier-Land

© Roderic Quinn

YOU of the past, are you present?
Draw nearer! my heart is sore.
Was yours the fall of the foot in the hall?
Was yours the face at the door?

"According to the Mighty Working"

© Thomas Hardy

When moiling seems at cease
In the vague void of night-time,
And heaven's wide roomage stormless
Between the dusk and light-time,
And fear at last is formless,
We call the allurement Peace.

The Flower

© Grace Hazard Conkling

But the sun against the tall Pacific
Does not shine and triumph in my memory of that day
As do the leaf-shaped magenta petals
Of that flower you stole for me
From a roadside bougainvillea.

Cannibal Street

© Kenneth Slessor

"BUY, who'll buy," the pedlar sings,
"Bones of beggars, loins of kings,
Ribs of murder, haunch of hate,
And Beauty's head on a butcher's plate!"

Lenore, A Tale

© Henry James Pye

LENÓRE wakes from dreams of dread

At the rosy dawn of day,

Deutsch Ist Ein Urwald

© Heinrich Federer

Französisch ist ein edler Park, Italienisch

ein großer, heller, bunter Wald.

The Embarrassing Episode Of Little Miss Muffet

© Guy Wetmore Carryl

Little Miss Muffet discovered a tuffet,

(Which never occurred to the rest of us)

The Saying of Il Haboul

© Adelaide Crapsey

Guardian Of The Treasure Of Solomon

And Keeper Of the Prophet's Armour

The Muses Threnodie: Fourth Muse

© Henry Adamson

This time our boat passing too nigh the land,

The whirling stream did make her run on sand;

Since This has been Authentick Truth,
By Age deliver'd down to Youth;
Tell us, mistaken Husband, tell us,
Why so Mysterious, why so Jealous?
Does the Restraint, the Bolt, the Bar
Make Us less Curious, Her less Fair?

On Resigning A Scholarship Of Trinity College, Oxford

© William Lisle Bowles

AND RETIRING TO A COUNTRY CURACY.

Farewell! a long farewell! O Poverty,

Moonrise

© Govinda Krishna Chettur

I awoke in the Midsummer not to call night, in the white and the walk of the
morning:
The moon, dwindled and thinned to the fringe of a finger-nail held to the
candle,
Or paring of paradisaical fruit, lovely in waning but lustreless,
Stepped from the stool, drew back from the barrow, of dark Maenefa the mountain;

The Muckin' O' Geordie's Byre

© Robert Burns

Chorus:
For the graip was tint, the besom was deen,
The barra widna row its leen,
An'siccan a soss it never was seen
At the muckin' o' Geordie's byre.

The Wit And The Beau

Strephon with change of Habits press'd,
And urg'd her to admire;
His Love alone the Other dress'd,
As Verse, or Prose became it best,
And mov'd her soft Desire.

An Evening Dream

I'm leaning where you loved to lean in eventides of old,

The sun has sunk an hour ago behind the treeless wold,

The Fairy Queen's Song

Oh, amorous dove!
Type of Ovidius Naso!
This heart of mine
Is soft as thine,
Although I dare not say so!

The Flag

There's a flag hangs over my threshold, whose folds are more dear to me
Than the blood that thrills in my bosom its earnest of liberty;
And dear are the stars it harbors in its sunny field of blue
As the hope of a further heaven that lights all our dim lives through.