All Poems

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Oh! we, who have known shame, we have found release there,
Where there's no ill, no grief, but sleep has mending,
Naught broken save this body, lost but breath;
Nothing to shake the laughing heart's long peace there
But only agony, and that has ending;
And the worst friend and enemy is but Death.

The King's Daughter

© Algernon Charles Swinburne

WE WERE ten maidens in the green corn,
Small red leaves in the mill-water:
Fairer maidens never were born,
Apples of gold for the kings daughter.

Finding

© Rupert Brooke

From the candles and dumb shadows,
And the house where love had died,
I stole to the vast moonlight
And the whispering life outside.

The Dead Wife

© Dora Sigerson Shorter

Thrice turned she in her narrow bed,

His tears disturbed her rest;

Failure

© Rupert Brooke

All the great courts were quiet in the sun,
And full of vacant echoes: moss had grown
Over the glassy pavement, and begun
To creep within the dusty council-halls.
An idle wind blew round an empty throne
And stirred the heavy curtains on the walls.

The Stricken South To The North

© Paul Hamilton Hayne

WHEN ruthful time the South's memorial places--
Her heroes' graves--had wreathed in grass and flowers;
When Peace ethereal, crowned by all her graces,
Returned to make more bright the summer hours;

Thoughts On The Shape Of The Human Body

© Rupert Brooke

How can we find? how can we rest? how can
We, being gods, win joy, or peace, being man?
We, the gaunt zanies of a witless Fate,
Who love the unloving and lover hate,

Ode To Peace

© Henry Van Dyke

I

IN EXCELSIS

Now, God Be Thanked Who Has Matched Us With His Hour

© Rupert Brooke

Oh! we who have known shame, we have found release there,
Where there's no ill, no grief, but sleep has mending,
Nought broken save this body, lost but breath;
Nothing to shake the laughing heart's long peace there
But only agony, and that has ending;
And the worst friend and enemy is but Death.

Clouds

© Rupert Brooke

Down the blue night the unending columns press
In noiseless tumult, break and wave and flow,
Now tread the far South, or lift rounds of snow
Up to the white moon's hidden loveliness.

Tale XVIII

© George Crabbe

THE WAGER.

Counter and Clubb were men in trade, whose pains,

The Patchwork Quilt

© Robert Graves

Here is this patchwork quilt I've made

Of patterned silks and old brocade,

II. Safety

© Rupert Brooke

Dear! of all happy in the hour, most blest
He who has found our hid security,
Assured in the dark tides of the world that rest,
And heard our word, `Who is so safe as we?'

Orientale

© William Ernest Henley

She's an enchanting little Israelite,

A world of hidden dimples!--Dusky-eyed,

Success

I think if you had loved me when I wanted;
If I'd looked up one day, and seen your eyes,
And found my wild sick blasphemous prayer granted,
And your brown face, that's full of pity and wise,

Flanders Fields

Here the scanted daisy glows
Glorious as the carmined rose;
Here the hill-top's verdure mean
Fair is with unfading green;
Here, where sorrow still must tread,
All her graves are garlanded.

Seaside

Swiftly out from the friendly lilt of the band,
The crowd's good laughter, the loved eyes of men,
I am drawn nightward; I must turn again
Where, down beyond the low untrodden strand,

Charm, The

Your magic and your beauty and your strength,
Like hills at noon or sunlight on a tree,
Sleeping prevail in earth and air.

Beauty Undecked

The grass mid sheen when wat'ry beäds
O' dew do glitter on the meäds,
An' thorns be bright when quiv'rèn studs
O' raïn do hang upon their buds--
As jewels be a-meäde by art
To zet the plaïnest vo'k off smart.