All Poems
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Indian Summer
© William Wilfred Campbell
Along the line of smoky hills
The crimson forest stands,
And all the day the blue-jay calls
Throughout the autumn lands.
He Wonders Whether to Praise or Blame Her
© Rupert Brooke
I have peace to weigh your worth, now all is over,
But if to praise or blame you, cannot say.
For, who decries the loved, decries the lover;
Yet what man lauds the thing hes thrown away?
Hoodoo Voodoo Lady
© Sheldon Allan Silverstein
Yeah hoodoo voodoo lady cast up your voodoo vision
Let me know where did my baby go where did my lovin' baby go
Hoodoo voodoo lady shake your black cat tooth and your mojo bone
And bring my baby home bring my baby back home yeah
Mutability
© Rupert Brooke
Dear, we know only that we sigh, kiss, smile;
Each kiss lasts but the kissing; and grief goes over;
Love has no habitation but the heart.
Poor straws! on the dark flood we catch awhile,
Cling, and are borne into the night apart.
The laugh dies with the lips, `Love' with the lover.
The Door and the Window
© Henry Reed
My love, you are timely come, let me lie by your heart.
For waking in the dark this morning, I woke to that mystery,
Which we can all wake to, at some dark time or another:
Waking to find the room not as I thought it was,
But the window further away, and the door in another direction.
The Funeral of Youth: Threnody
© Rupert Brooke
The Day that Youth had died,
There came to his grave-side,
In decent mourning, from the countrys ends,
Those scatterd friends
As some vast Tropic tree, itself a wood (fragment)
© Samuel Taylor Coleridge
As some vast Tropic tree, itself a wood,
That crests its Head with clouds, beneath the flood
Another Mouth To Feed
© Edgar Albert Guest
We've got another mouth to feed,
From out our little store;
In Examination
© Rupert Brooke
Lo! from quiet skies
In through the window my Lord the Sun!
And my eyes
Were dazzled and drunk with the misty gold,
The Singing Leaves
© James Russell Lowell
'What fairings will ye that I bring?'
Said the King to his daughters three;
'For I to Vanity Fair am bound,
Now say what shall they be?'
Goddess In The Wood, The
© Rupert Brooke
Till a swift terror broke the abrupt hour.
The gold waves purled amidst the green above her;
And a bird sang. With one sharp-taken breath,
By sunlit branches and unshaken flower,
The immortal limbs flashed to the human lover,
And the immortal eyes to look on death.
Loss And Waste
© Jean Ingelow
Up to far Osteroe and Suderoe
The deep sea-floor lies strewn with Spanish wrecks,
O'er minted gold the fair-haired fishers go,
O'er sunken bravery of high carv褠decks.
The Busy Heart
© Rupert Brooke
Now that weve done our best and worst, and parted,
I would fill my mind with thoughts that will not rend.
(O heart, I do not dare go empty-hearted)
Ill think of Love in books, Love without end;
Ode to Memory
© Alfred Tennyson
O strengthen me, englighten me!
I faint in this obscurity,
Thou dewy dawn of memory.
Waikiki
© Rupert Brooke
And I recall, lose, grasp, forget again,
And still remember, a tale I have heard, or known,
An empty tale, of idleness and pain,
Of two that loved -- or did not love -- and one
Whose perplexed heart did evil, foolishly,
A long while since, and by some other sea.
Going Deaf by Miller Williams: American Life in Poetry #209 Ted Kooser, U.S. Poet Laureate 2004-2006
© Ted Kooser
I've gotten to the age at which I am starting to strain to hear things, but I am glad to have gotten to that age, all the same. Here's a fine poem by Miller Williams of Arkansas that gets inside a person who is losing her hearing.
Going Deaf
Al Aaraaf: Part 2
© Edgar Allan Poe
"My Angelo! and why of them to be?
A brighter dwelling-place is here for thee-
And greener fields than in yon world above,
And woman's loveliness- and passionate love."
Home
© Rupert Brooke
I came back late and tired last night
Into my little room,
To the long chair and the firelight
And comfortable gloom.
A Fleeting Glimpse Of A Village
© Victor Marie Hugo
How graceful the picture! the life, the repose!
The sunbeam that plays on the porchstone wide;
And the shadow that fleets o'er the stream that flows,
And the soft blue sky with the hill's green side.
