All Poems
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Under Arcturus
© Madison Julius Cawein
I
I BELT the morn with ribboned mist;
With baldricked blue I gird the noon,
And dusk with purple, crimson-kissed,
White-buckled with the hunters-moon.
381. SongFragmentNo cold approach
© Robert Burns
NO cold approach, no altered mien,
Just what would make suspicion start;
No pause the dire extremes between,
He made me blestand broke my heart.
445. The Minstel at Lincluden
© Robert Burns
AS I stood by yon roofless tower,
Where the waflowr scents the dery air,
Where the howlet mourns in her ivy bower,
And tells the midnight moon her care.
from "Nkosi Sikelel' iAfrika"
© Cornelis Jacobus Langenhoven
Nkosi sikelel' iAfrika
Maluphakanyisw' uphondo lwayo,
Yizwa imithandazo yethu,
Nkosi sikelela, thina lusapho lwayo.
(Xhosa and Zulu)
290. SongA Waukrife Minnie
© Robert Burns
WHARE are you gaun, my bonie lass,
Whare are you gaun, my hinnie?
She answered me right saucilie,
An errand for my minnie.
Distress
© Stéphane Mallarme
I dont come to conquer your flesh tonight, O beast
In whom are the sins of the race, nor to stir
In your foul tresses a mournful tempest
Beneath the fatal boredom my kisses pour:
320. Lines to Sir John Whitefoord, Bart
© Robert Burns
THOU, who thy honour as thy God reverst,
Who, save thy minds reproach, nought earthly fearst,
To thee this votive offering I impart,
The tearful tribute of a broken heart.
405. EpigramCommissary Goldies Brains
© Robert Burns
LORD, to account who dares thee call,
Or eer dispute thy pleasure?
Else why, within so thick a wall,
Enclose so poor a treasure?
282. Extemporaneous Effusion on being appointed to an Excise Division
© Robert Burns
SEARCHING auld wives barrels,
Ochon the day!
That clarty barm should stain my laurels:
Butwhatll ye say?
These movin things cad wives an weans,
Wad move the very hearts o stanes!
514. SongThe Lass o Ecclefechan
© Robert Burns
GAT ye me, O gat ye me,
O gat ye me wi naething?
Rock an reel, and spinning wheel,
A mickle quarter basin:
356. EpigramThe Keekin Glass
© Robert Burns
HOW daur ye ca me Howlet-face?
Ye blear-eed, withered spectre!
Ye only spied the keekin-glass,
An there ye saw your picture.
The Lighted Window
© Sara Teasdale
In the winter dusk,
The pavements were gleaming with rain;
There in the lighted window
I left my boyhood."
473. On Chloris requesting a sprig of blossomd thorn
© Robert Burns
FROM the white-blossomd sloe my dear Chloris requested
A sprig, her fair breast to adorn:
No, by Heavens! I exclaimd, let me perish, if ever
I plant in that bosom a thorn!
To A Child Shut In A Bedroom
© Aline Murray Kilmer
DEAR, O desolate bright head!
O drooping mouth and shaken chin!
470. SongShe says she loes me best of a
© Robert Burns
SAE flaxen were her ringlets,
Her eyebrows of a darker hue,
Bewitchingly oer-arching
Twa laughing een o lovely blue;
The 9th Satire Of Book I. Of Horace : The Description Of An Impertinent. Adapted To The Present Time
© William Cowper
Sauntering along the street one day,
On trifles musing by the way,
69. Third Epistle to J. Lapraik
© Robert Burns
But stooks are cowpit wi the blast,
And now the sinn keeks in the west,
Then I maun rin amang the rest,
An quat my chanter;
Sae I subscribe myself in haste,
Yours, Rab the Ranter.Sept. 13, 1785.
227. Verses on Friars Carse Hermitage (First Version)
© Robert Burns
THOU whom chance may hither lead,
Be thou clad in russet weed,
Be thou deckt in silken stole,
Grave these maxims on thy soul.
