All Poems

 / page 1389 of 3210 /
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Old-Fashioned Letters

© Edgar Albert Guest

Old-fashioned letters! How good they were!

And nobody writes them now;

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533. Song—Forlorn, my love, no comfort here

© Robert Burns

FORLORN, my Love, no comfort near,
Far, far from thee, I wander here;
Far, far from thee, the fate severe,
At which I most repine, Love.

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Disco De Newton

© Ramon Lopez Velarde

Omnicromía de la tarde amena…
El alma, a la sordina,
y la luz, peregrina,
y la ventura, plena,
y la Vida, una hada
que por amar esta desencajada.

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192. Song—The Bonie Lass of Albany

© Robert Burns

MY 1 heart is wae, and unco wae,
To think upon the raging sea,
That roars between her gardens green
An’ the bonie Lass of Albany.

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A Virgile

© Victor Marie Hugo

Pour toi je l'ai cherchée, un matin, fier, joyeux,
Avec l'amour au coeur et l'aube dans les yeux ;
Pour toi je l'ai cherchée, accompagné de celle
Qui sait tous les secrets que mon âme recèle,
Et qui, seule avec moi sous les bois chevelus,
Serait ma Lycoris si j'étais ton Gallus.

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110. Epistle to a Young Friend

© Robert Burns

May—, 1786.I LANG hae thought, my youthfu’ friend,
A something to have sent you,
Tho’ it should serve nae ither end
Than just a kind memento:

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Finality

© Charles Harpur

A HEAVY and desolate sense of life
  Is all the Past makes mine—and still
A cold contempt of Fortune’s strife,
  Despite the dread
  Of want of bread,
’Numbs, clogs like ice, my weary will.

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138. Address to the Toothache

© Robert Burns

O thou grim, mischief-making chiel,
That gars the notes o’ discord squeel,
Till daft mankind aft dance a reel
In gore, a shoe-thick,
Gie a’ the faes o’ SCOTLAND’S weal
A townmond’s toothache!

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Years Have Passed

© Sugawara Takesue no Musume

Even in our wandering journey,
The lonely moon accompanies us lighting us from the sky,
The waning moon I used to gaze at in the Royal City.

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52. Epitaph on John Rankine

© Robert Burns

AE day, as Death, that gruesome carl,
Was driving to the tither warl’
A mixtie-maxtie motley squad,
And mony a guilt-bespotted lad—

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Kom mi Bette Kipkal

© Jeppe Aakjaer

A haar tjent Jens Masen  

no halvanden Or,  

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293. The Whistle: A Ballad

© Robert Burns

I SING of a Whistle, a Whistle of worth,
I sing of a Whistle, the pride of the North.
Was brought to the court of our good Scottish King,
And long with this Whistle all Scotland shall ring.

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A Remonstrance to the Poet Campbell, on Proposing to Take up His Permanent Residence in London

© Alaric Alexander Watts

Dear Poet of Hope! who hast charmed us so long

 With thy strains of home-music, sweet, solemn, and strong;

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481. Epigram on Andrew Turner

© Robert Burns

IN se’enteen hunder’n forty-nine,
The deil gat stuff to mak a swine,
An’ coost it in a corner;
But wilily he chang’d his plan,
An’ shap’d it something like a man,
An’ ca’d it Andrew Turner.

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Our Martrys

© Paul Hamilton Hayne

I AM sitting alone and weary,
By the hearth of my darkened room,
And the low wind's miserere,
Makes sadder the midnight gloom.

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54. Man was made to Mourn: A Dirge

© Robert Burns

WHEN chill November’s surly blast
Made fields and forests bare,
One ev’ning, as I wander’d forth
Along the banks of Ayr,

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An Entreaty

© Frances Anne Kemble

Once more, once more into the sunny fields

  Oh, let me stray!

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548. The Dean of Faculty: A new Ballad

© Robert Burns

DIRE was the hate at old Harlaw,
That Scot to Scot did carry;
And dire the discord Langside saw
For beauteous, hapless Mary:

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Orgueil d'aimer

© François Coppée

Hélas! la chimère s'envole
Et l'espoir ne m'est plus permis;
Mais je défends qu'on me console.

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39. Ballad on the American War

© Robert Burns

WHEN Guilford good our pilot stood
An’ did our hellim thraw, man,
Ae night, at tea, began a plea,
Within America, man: