All Poems

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Your Night Is of Lilac

© Mahmoud Darwish

The night sits wherever you are. Your night

is of lilac. Every now and then a gesture escapes

An Ode

© Erik Bogh

The merchant, to secure his treasure,
Conveys it in a borrowed name;
Euphelia serves to grace my measure,
But Cloe is my real flame.

Amoretti LXX: Fresh spring the herald of loves mighty king

© Edmund Spenser

Fresh spring the herald of loves mighty king,

In whose cote armour richly are displayed

Canicule Macaronique

© John Fuller

Heureux ceux qui ont la clim—Corse-Matin (6.8.94)
Heureux ceux qui ont la clim
Pendant la grande canicule.
Heureux those whose culs are cool.
Heureuse her and heureux him.

Étude Réaliste

© Algernon Charles Swinburne

(excerpt)
I
A baby's feet, like sea-shells pink,
Might tempt, should heaven see meet,
An angel's lips to kiss, we think,
A baby's feet.

Phases

© Edwin Muir

I.
There’s a little square in Paris,
Waiting until we pass.
They sit idly there,
They sip the glass.

Portraits

© Laura Riding Jackson

Mother came to visit today. We

hadn’t seen each other in years. Why didn’t

Song of the Thunders

© Pierre Reverdy

Sometimes I,
I go about pitying
Myself
While I am carried by the wind
Across the sky.

Reading an Anthology of Chinese Poems of the Sung Dynasty, I Pause To Admire the Length and Clarity of Their Titles

© Billy Collins

"Viewing Peonies at the Temple of Good Fortune
on a Cloudy Afternoon" is one of Sun Tung Po's.
"Dipping Water from the River and Simmering Tea"
is another one, or just
"On a Boat, Awake at Night."

The Drought

© Gary Soto

The clouds shouldered a path up the mountains
East of Ocampo, and then descended,
Scraping their bellies gray on the cracked shingles of slate.

Innocents We

© Paul Verlaine

Their long skirts and high heels battled away:

Depending on the ground’s and breezes’ whim,

Poem (The day gets slowly started)

© James Schuyler

The day gets slowly started.

A rap at the bedroom door,

Jordan (I)

© George Herbert

Who says that fictions only and false hair
Become a verse? Is there in truth no beauty?
Is all good structure in a winding stair?
May no lines pass, except they do their duty
Not to a true, but painted chair?

To J. S.

© Alfred Tennyson

The wind, that beats the mountain, blows
More softly round the open wold,
And gently comes the world to those
That are cast in gentle mould.

Catch

© Langston Hughes

Being a fisher boy,
He’d found a fish
To carry—
Half fish,
Half girl
To marry.

Driving toward the Lac Qui Parle River

© Robert Bly

I

I am driving; it is dusk; Minnesota.

The Portent

© Arvind Krishna Mehrotra

Hanging from the beam,

Slowly swaying (such the law),

Connubial

© Stephen Dunn

Because with alarming accuracy
she’d been identifying patterns
I was unaware of—this tic, that
tendency, like the way I’ve mastered
the language of intimacy
in order to conceal how I felt—

Come slowly – Eden! (205)

© Emily Dickinson

Come slowly – Eden!
Lips unused to Thee –
Bashful – sip thy Jessamines –
As the fainting Bee –

In Memoriam A. H. H. OBIIT MDCCCXXXIII: 82

© Alfred Tennyson

I wage not any feud with Death
For changes wrought on form and face;
No lower life that earth's embrace
May breed with him, can fright my faith.