All Poems
/ page 1431 of 3210 /The Anvil
© Robert Laurence Binyon
Burned from the ores rejected dross,
The iron whitens in the heat.
Sonnet 102: My love is strengthened, though more weak in seeming
© William Shakespeare
My love is strengthened, though more weak in seeming;
I love not less, though less the show appear;
That love is merchandized, whose rich esteeming
The owner's tongue doth publish everywhere.
Sonnet 101: O truant Muse, what shall be thy amends
© William Shakespeare
O truant Muse, what shall be thy amends
For thy neglect of truth in beauty dyed?
Both truth and beauty on my love depends;
So dost thou too, and therein dignified.
Daddy Fell into the Pond
© Alfred Noyes
Everyone grumbled. The sky was grey.
We had nothing to do and nothing to say.
We were nearing the end of a dismal day,
And there seemed to be nothing beyond,
THEN
Daddy fell into the pond!
Sonnet 100: Where art thou, Muse, that thou forget'st so long
© William Shakespeare
Where art thou, Muse, that thou forget'st so long
To speak of that which gives thee all thy might?
Spend'st thou thy fury on some worthless song,
Darkening thy power to lend base subjects light?
Sonnet 10: For shame, deny that thou bear'st love to any
© William Shakespeare
For shame, deny that thou bear'st love to any
Who for thy self art so unprovident.
Grant, if thou wilt, thou art beloved of many,
But that thou none lov'st is most evident;
It struck meevery Day
© Emily Dickinson
It struck meevery Day
The Lightning was as new
As if the Cloud that instant slit
And let the Fire through
Sonnet 1: From fairest creatures we desire increase
© William Shakespeare
From fairest creatures we desire increase,
That thereby beauty's rose might never die,
But as the riper should by time decease,
His tender heir might bear his memory;
Sonet LIV
© William Shakespeare
O, how much more doth beauty beauteous seem
By that sweet ornament which truth doth give!
The rose looks fair, but fairer we it deem
For that sweet odour which doth in it live.
Dreams
© Caroline Norton
SURELY I heard a voice-surely my name
Was breathed in tones familiar to my heart!
I listened-and the low wind stealing came,
In darkness and in silence to depart.
Silvia
© William Shakespeare
WHO is Silvia? What is she?
That all our swains commend her?
Holy, fair, and wise is she;
The heaven such grace did lend her,
That she might admired be.
The Golden Gallery At Saint Pauls
© Robert Laurence Binyon
The Golden Gallery lifts its aery crown
O'er dome and pinnacle: there I leaned and gazed.
Is this indeed my own familiar town,
This busy dream? Beneath me spreading hazed
Shall I compare thee to a summer's day? (Sonnet 18)
© William Shakespeare
Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate.
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
And summer's lease hath all too short a date.
Orpheus
© William Shakespeare
ORPHEUS with his lute made trees
And the mountain tops that freeze
Bow themselves when he did sing:
To his music plants and flowers
Ever sprung; as sun and showers
There had made a lasting spring.
Love
© Rabia al Basri
I have loved Thee with two loves -
a selfish love and a love that is worthy of Thee.
Not marble nor the guilded monuments (Sonnet 55)
© William Shakespeare
Not marble nor the gilded monuments
Of princes shall outlive this powerful rhyme;
But you shall shine more bright in these contents
Than unswept stone, besmear'd with sluttish time.
Ausonius Lib. I. Epig.
© Richard Lovelace
Thesauro invento qui limina mortis inibat,
Liquit ovans laqueum, quo periturus erat;
At qui, quod terrae abdiderat, non repperit aurum,
Quem laqueum invenit nexuit, et periit.
Not from the stars do I my judgment pluck (Sonnet 14)
© William Shakespeare
Not from the stars do I my judgment pluck,
And yet methinks I have astronomy;
But not to tell of good or evil luck,
Of plagues, of dearths, or seasons' quality;
A Wife's Grief Because Of Her Husband's Absence
© Confucius
The falcon swiftly seeks the north,
And forest gloom that sent it forth.
Since I no more my husband see,
My heart from grief is never free.
O how is it, I long to know,
That he, my lord, forgets me so?
My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun (Sonnet 130)
© William Shakespeare
My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun;
Coral is far more red than her lips' red;
If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun;
If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head.