All Poems
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Sonnet 9: Is it for fear to wet a widow's eye
© William Shakespeare
Is it for fear to wet a widow's eye,
That thou consum'st thy self in single life?
Ah, if thou issueless shalt hap to die,
The world will wail thee like a makeless wife.
Friendship Broken
© Louise Imogen Guiney
Mine was the mood that shows the dearest face
Thro' a long avenue, and voices kind
Idle, and indeterminate, and blind
The One Grief
© Edith Wharton
ONE grief there is, the helpmeet of my heart,
That shall not from me till my days be sped,
Sonnet 88: When thou shalt be disposed to set me light
© William Shakespeare
When thou shalt be disposed to set me light
And place my merit in the eye of scorn,
Upon thy side, against myself I'll fight,
And prove thee virtuous, though thou art forsworn.
Sonnet 87: Farewell! Thou art too dear for my possessing
© William Shakespeare
Farewell! Thou art too dear for my possessing,
And like enough thou know'st thy estimate,
The charter of thy worth gives thee releasing;
My bonds in thee are all determinate.
Before The Rain
© Madison Julius Cawein
Within the world these sounds were heard alone,
Save when the ruffian wind swept from the sky,
Making each tree like some sad spirit sigh;
Or shook the clumsy beetle from its weed,
That, in the drowsy darkness, bungling by,
Sharded the silence with its feverish speed.
July
© Lionel Pigot Johnson
SUMMER lightning, and rich rain:
Roses perfume the hot air.
All the breathless night is faint,
All the flowery night is fair.
Philomel her joy or plaint
Sings, and sings, and sings again.
Sonnet 85: My tongue-tied Muse in manners holds her still
© William Shakespeare
My tongue-tied Muse in manners holds her still,
While comments of your praise, richly compiled,
Reserve their character with golden quill,
And precious phrase by all the Muses filed.
An Octopus
© Marianne Clarke Moore
of ice. Deceptively reserved and flat,
it lies "in grandeur and in mass"
Sonnet 84: Who is it that says most, which can say more
© William Shakespeare
Who is it that says most, which can say more,
Than this rich praise -- that you alone are you,
In whose confine immurèd is the store
Which should example where your equal grew?
Sonnet 83: I never saw that you did painting need
© William Shakespeare
I never saw that you did painting need,
And therefore to your fair no painting set;
I found, or thought I found, you did exceed
That barren tender of a poet's debt;
Jerusalem Delivered - Book 06 - part 03
© Torquato Tasso
XXIX
This youth was one of those, who late desired
Sonnet 81: Or I shall live your epitaph to make
© William Shakespeare
Or I shall live your epitaph to make,
Or you survive when I in earth am rotten,
From hence your memory death cannot take,
Although in me each part will be forgotten.
Come not when I am dead
© Alfred Tennyson
Come not, when I am dead,
To drop thy foolish tears upon my grave,
To trample round my fallen head,
And vex the unhappy dust thou wouldst not save.
There let the wind sweep and the plover cry;
But thou, go by.
Sonnet 8: Music to hear, why hear'st thou music sadly?
© William Shakespeare
Music to hear, why hear'st thou music sadly?
Sweets with sweets war not, joy delights in joy.
Why lov'st thou that which thou receiv'st not gladly,
Or else receiv'st with pleasure thine annoy?
Hard Times Come Again No More
© Stephen C. Foster
Let us pause in life's pleasures and count its many tears,
While we all sup sorrow with the poor;
There's a song that will linger forever in our ears;
Oh, hard times come again no more.
Sonnet 79: Whilst I alone did call upon thy aid
© William Shakespeare
Whilst I alone did call upon thy aid,
My verse alone had all thy gentle grace,
But now my gracious numbers are decayed,
And my sick Muse doth give an other place.
The Stormy Night
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
HOW roars this wintry tempest, fierce and loud,
Borne from far passes of the ice-locked hills!
How raves this desolate rain, whose tumult fills
The whole dark heaven up-piled with cloud on cloud;
Sonnet 78: So oft have I invoked thee for my Muse
© William Shakespeare
So oft have I invoked thee for my Muse,
And found such fair assistance in my verse
As every alien pen hath got my use,
And under thee their poesy disperse.
The Kind Word
© Ada Cambridge
Speak kindly, wife; the little ones will grow
Fairest and straightest in the warmest sun.
