All Poems

/ page 1449 of 3210 /

Order by :

Elegy for an Enemy

© Stephen Vincent Benet

(For G. H.) Say, does that stupid earth
Where they have laid her,
Bind still her sullen mirth,
Mirth which betrayed her?

Around and beneath, the dull grey mist and the sullen roar of the sea,
Scant footing-place on the sheer cliffs facewith death for a penalty;
But afar and above there is rest and love, there is hope for brain and hand,
The valleys fair and the crystal air and the peaks of Morning Land.

Dedication

© Stephen Vincent Benet

And so, to you, who always were
Perseus, D'Artagnan, Lancelot
To me, I give these weedy rhymes
In memory of earlier times.
Now all those careless days are not.
Of all my heroes, you endure.

Scintilla

© William Stanley Braithwaite

I kissed a kiss in youth
Upon a dead man's brow;
And that was long ago,--
And I'm a grown man now.

Colors

© Stephen Vincent Benet

(For D. M. C.) The little man with the vague beard and guise
Pulled at the wicket. "Come inside!" he said,
"I'll show you all we've got now -- it was size
You wanted? -- oh, dry colors! Well" -- he led

Before an Examination

© Stephen Vincent Benet

The breeze blows cool and there are stars and stars
Beyond the dark, soft masses of the elms
That whisper things in windy tones and light.
They seem to wheel for dim, celestial wars;
And I -- I hear the clash of silver helms
Ring icy-clear from the far deeps of night.

Written In Early Youth. The Time,--An Autumnal Evening

© Samuel Taylor Coleridge

Scenes of my hope! the aching eye ye leave
Like yon bright hues that paint the clouds of eve!
Tearful and sadd'ning with the saddened blaze
Mine eye the gleam pursues with wistful gaze;
Sees shades on shades with deeper tint impend,
Till chill and damp the moonless night descend.

Alexander VI Dines with the Cardinal of Capua

© Stephen Vincent Benet

Next, then, the peacock, gilt
With all its feathers. Look, what gorgeous dyes
Flow in the eyes!
And how deep, lustrous greens are splashed and spilt
Along the back, that like a sea-wave's crest
Scatters soft beauty o'er th' emblazoned breast!

A Song Of Changgan

© Li Po

My hair had hardly covered my forehead.
I was picking flowers, paying by my door,
When you, my lover, on a bamboo horse,
Came trotting in circles and throwing green plums.
We lived near together on a lane in Ch'ang-kan,
Both of us young and happy-hearted.

A Minor Poet

© Stephen Vincent Benet

Others with subtle hands may pluck the strings,
Making even Love in music audible,
And earth one glory. I am but a shell
That moves, not of itself, and moving sings;
Leaving a fragrance, faint as wine new-shed,
A tremulous murmur from great days long dead.

Is qadar musalsal thin

© Ahmad Faraz

is qadar musalsal thin shidaten judai ki

aj pahali bar us sa main ne bevafai ki

The Aeolian Harp

© Samuel Taylor Coleridge

My pensive SARA! thy soft cheek reclined
Thus on mine arm, most soothing sweet it is
To sit beside our Cot, our Cot o'ergrown
With white-flower'd Jasmin, and the broad-leav'd Myrtle,

The Chances

© Wilfred Owen

I mind as 'ow the night afore that show
Us five got talking, -- we was in the know,
"Over the top to-morrer; boys, we're for it,
First wave we are, first ruddy wave; that's tore it."

The Givers Of Life

I.
WHO called us forth out of darkness and gave us the gift of life,
Who set our hands to the toiling, our feet in the field of strife?
Darkly they mused, predestined to knowledge of viewless things,

The Show

© Wilfred Owen

My soul looked down from a vague height with Death,
As unremembering how I rose or why,
And saw a sad land, weak with sweats of dearth,
Gray, cratered like the moon with hollow woe,
And fitted with great pocks and scabs of plaques.