All Poems
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I took my lyre and said
© Sappho
I took my lyre and said:
Come now, my heavenly
tortoise shell: become
a speaking instrument
Messengers Of Dreams
© William Stanley Braithwaite
My heart can tell them, every one,
The messengers of dreams that run
Above the tree-tops in the sun.
Objects
© Zbigniew Herbert
Inanimate objects are always correct and cannot, unfortunately, be reproached with anything
Unfortunate
© Rupert Brooke
She will not care. She'll smile to see me come,
So that I think all Heaven in flower to fold me.
She'll give me all I ask, kiss me and hold me,
And open wide upon that holy air
The gates of peace, and take my tiredness home,
Kinder than God. But, heart, she will not care.
And love has changed to kindliness
© Rupert Brooke
When love has changed to kindliness --
Oh, love, our hungry lips, that press
So tight that Time's an old god's dream
Nodding in heaven, and whisper stuff
Afternoon
© Eli Siegel
Hear Mr. Bulwer as he talks.
You might think he was so cheerful.
That smile took him ages to get
And he uses it this minute.
Life-Weary
© George MacDonald
O Thou that walkest with nigh hopeless feet
Past the one harbour, built for thee and thine.
Doth no stray odour from its table greet,
No truant beam from fire or candle shine?
Dead Men's Love
© Rupert Brooke
There was a damned successful Poet;
There was a Woman like the Sun.
And they were dead. They did not know it.
They did not know their time was done.
Comrades in Arms-Lets
© Jessie Pope
NOT theirs the popular uniform
That takes the feminine heart by storm,
Busy Heart, The
© Rupert Brooke
Now that we've 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)
I'll think of Love in books, Love without end;
Winter Sky
© Boris Pasternak
Ice-chips plucked whole from the smoke,
the past weeks stars all frozen in flight,
A Ballad
© Charles Lamb
In a costly palace Youth goes clad in gold;
In a wretched workhouse Age's limbs are cold:
There they sit, the old men by a shivering fire,
Still close and closer cowering, warmth is their desire.
Day And Night
© Rupert Brooke
But when I sleep, and all my thoughts go straying,
When the high session of the day is ended,
And darkness comes; then, with the waning light,
By lilied maidens on your way attended,
Proud from the wonted throne, superbly swaying,
You, like a queen, pass out into the night.
The Call
© Rupert Brooke
Out of the nothingness of sleep,
The slow dreams of Eternity,
There was a thunder on the deep:
I came, because you called to me.
Stella And Flavia.
© Mary Barber
Stella and Flavia, ev'ry Hour,
Unnumber'd Hearts surprize:
In Stella's Soul lies all her Pow'r,
And Flavia's, in her Eyes.
The Storm
© Robert Laurence Binyon
Stooping over London, skies convulsed
With thunder moved: a rumour of storm remote
Hushed them, and birds flew troubled. The gradual clouds
Up from the West climbing, above the East
Jerusalem Delivered - Book 02 - part 01
© Torquato Tasso
THE ARGUMENT.
Ismeno conjures, but his charms are vain;
Dawn
© Rupert Brooke
One of them wakes, and spits, and sleeps again.
The darkness shivers. A wan light through the rain
Strikes on our faces, drawn and white. Somewhere
A new day sprawls; and, inside, the foul air
Is chill, and damp, and fouler than before. . . .
Opposite me two Germans sweat and snore.
Firebrand
© Harry Crosby
What is your feeling about the revolutionary spirit of your age, as expressed, for instance, in such movements as communism, surrealism, anarchism?
The revolutionary spirit of our age (as expressed by communism, surrealism, anarchism, madness) is a hot firebrand thrust into the dark lantern of the world.
In Nine Decades
a Mad Queen shall be born.
