All Poems
/ page 1452 of 3210 /Unshriven
© Adam Lindsay Gordon
Oh! the sun rose on the lea, and the bird sang merrilie,
And the steed stood ready harness'd in the hall,
And he left his lady's bower, and he sought the eastern tower,
And he lifted cloak and weapon from the wall.
La Solitude de St. Amant
© Katherine Philips
1O! Solitude, my sweetest choice
Places devoted to the night,
Remote from tumult, and from noise,
How you my restless thoughts delight!
To One Persuading A Lady To Marriage
© Katherine Philips
Forbear, bold youth; all 's heaven here,
And what you do aver
To others courtship may appear,
'Tis sacrilege to her.
La Jeune Tarentine
© André Marie de Chénier
'Hélas! chez ton amant tu n'es point ramenée;
Tu n'as point revêtu ta robe d'hyménée;
L'or autour de tes bras n'a point serré de noeuds;
Les doux parfums n'ont point coulé sur tes cheveux.'
Friendships Mystery, To My Dearest Lucasia
© Katherine Philips
Come, my Lucasia, since we see
That miracles Men's Faith do move,
By wonder and by prodigy
To the dull angry World let's prove
There's a Religion in our Love.
The Three Quiet Gentlemen
© Henry Lawson
There is a quiet gentleman a-motoring in France
(Oh, dont you hear the honking of a British motor-car?)
To Myrtilla
© Franklin Pierce Adams
Twelve fleeting years ago my Myrt,
(Ehu fugaces! maybe more)
I wrote of the directoire skirt
You wore.
The World
© Katherine Philips
Wee falsely think it due unto our friends,
That we should grieve for their too early ends:
He that surveys the world with serious eys,
And stripps Her from her grosse and weak disguise,
The Poles
© Paul Celan
The Poles
are within us,
insurmountable
while Awake,
we sleep across, to the Gate
of Mercy,
A Retir'd Friendship
© Katherine Philips
Come, my Ardelia, to this bowre,
Where kindly mingling Souls a while,
Let's innocently spend an houre,
And at all serious follys smile
Consolation. (To M. Duperrier, Gentleman Of Aix In Provence, On The Death Of His Daughter)
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Will then, Duperrier, thy sorrow be eternal?
And shall the sad discourse
Whispered within thy heart, by tenderness paternal,
Only augment its force?
Against Love
© Katherine Philips
Hence Cupid! with your cheating toys,
Your real griefs, and painted joys,
Your pleasure which itself destroys.
Lovers like men in fevers burn and rave,
Epitaph In The Form Of A Ballade
© Francois Villon
Freres humains qui apres nous vivez,
N'ayez les coeurs contre nous endurcis ...
Men, brother men, that after us yet live,
Let not your hearts too hard against us be;
Book Of Paradise - The Privileged Men
© Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
AFTER THE BATTLE OF BADE, BENEATH THE CANOPY OF HEAVEN.
The Debate Between Villon And His Heart
© Francois Villon
Who's that I hear?It's meWho?Your heart
Hanging on by the thinnest thread
I lose all my strength, substance, and fluid
When I see you withdrawn this way all alone
Ballade To Our Lady
© Francois Villon
I, thy poor Christian, on thy name do call,
Commending me to thee, with thee to dwell,
Albeit in nought I be commendable.
Sonnet XXVI. To The River Arun
© Charlotte Turner Smith
ON thy wild banks, by frequent torrents worn,
No glittering fanes, or marble domes appear,
Yet shall the mournful muse thy course adorn,
And still to her thy rustic waves be dear.