All Poems
/ page 1294 of 3210 /Waiting -- Afield At Dusk
© Robert Frost
What things for dream there are when spectre-like,
Moving among tall haycocks lightly piled,
On the Countess Dowager of Manchester
© Charles Sackville
Courage, dear Moll, and drive away despair.
Mopsa, who in her youth was scarce thought fair,
The Land Of The Dawning
© George Essex Evans
Darkrose her shore in seas of amethyst
By tropic breezes kissed,
Fifth Sunday In Lent
© John Keble
The historic Muse, from age to age,
Through many a waste heart-sickening page
Hath traced the works of Man:
But a celestial call to-day
Stays her, like Moses, on her way,
The works of God to scan.
Dim by Jim Daniels: American Life in Poetry #34 Ted Kooser, U.S. Poet Laureate 2004-2006
© Ted Kooser
In this poem by Pittsburgh resident Jim Daniels, a father struggles to heal his son’s grief after an incident at school. The poem reminds us that when we’re young little things can hurt in a big way.
"I am sorry it is winter now"
© Osip Emilevich Mandelstam
I am sorry it is winter now,
And you can't hear mosquitoes in the house,
But you reminded yourself
Of the frivolous straw.
At Beauty's Bar As I Did Stand
© George Gascoigne
AT Beauty's bar as I did stand,
When False Suspect accused,
``George,'' quod the judge, ``hold up thy hand;
Thou art arraigned of flattery.
Tell therefore how thou wilt be tried.
Whose judgment here wilt thou abide?''
Love 20¢ The First Quarter Mile
© Kenneth Fearing
Because I forgive you, yes, for everything.
I forgive you for being beautiful and generous and wise,
I forgive you, to put it simply, for being alive, and pardon you, in short, for being you.
The Best Pipe
© Robert Fuller Murray
Clay, meerschaum, hookah, what are they
That I should view them with desire?
Both now, and when my hair is grey,
Give me a finely seasoned briar.
The Bullfinch
© Gavrila Romanovich Derzhavin
Why do you strike up songs military
Fife-like, o, bullfinch, my friend?
Who'll take the lead in our fight with Hell's forces?
Who will command us? What Hercules?
Where is Suvorov, strong, swift and fearless?
Now Northern thunder lies dead in the grave.
Womanhood
© Madison Julius Cawein
The summer takes its hue
From something opulent as fair in her,
And the bright heaven is brighter than it was;
Brighter and lovelier,
Arching its beautiful blue,
Serene and soft, as her sweet gaze, o'er us.
Faith
© Edith Nesbit
Lord, when my eyes see nothing but grey
In all Thy world that is now so green,
I will bethink me of this spring day
And the house of welcome, known yet unseen;
The wall that conceals
And the faith that reveals.
A Prayer
© Lord Alfred Douglas
Often the western wind has sung to me,
There have been voices in the streams and meres,
And pitiful trees have told me, God, of Thee :
And I heard not. Oh ! open Thou mine ears.
To The Moko-Moko, Or Bell-Bird
© Alexander Bathgate
I.
Merry chimer, merry chimer,
Oh, sing once more,
Again outpour,
Like some long-applauded mimer,
All thy vocal store.
Weary
© Dora Sigerson Shorter
Here, in the silent churchyard, 'mid a thousand dead, alone,
Weary I sit for a moment clasping this cross of stone,