All Poems

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The Bathers

© Robert Laurence Binyon

Hither, from thirsty day
And stifling labour and the street's hot glare,
To twilight shut away
Beyond the soft roar, under hovering trees,

Lines——

© Victor Segalen

I have been cherish’d and forgiven
By many tender-hearted,
’Twas for the sake of one in Heaven
Of him that is departed.

Unknown Woman

© Alexander Blok

Above the restaurants in the evenings
The sultry air is wild and still,
And the decaying breath of spring
Drives drunken shouting.

Dolls

© David St. John

They are so like

Us, frozen in a bald passion

The Cantab

© William Cowper

With two spurs or one, and no great matter which,

Boots bought, or boots borrow'd, a whip or a switch,

Wolf And Hound

© Adam Lindsay Gordon

You'll take my tale with a little salt;
But it needs none, nevertheless!
I was foiled completely - fair at fault -
Disheartened, too, I confess!

from War is Kind ["Do not weep, maiden, for war is kind"]

© Stephen Crane

Do not weep, maiden, for war is kind.
Because your lover threw wild hands toward the sky
And the affrighted steed ran on alone,
Do not weep.
War is kind.

Bread, Hashish And Moon

© Nizar Qabbani

When the moon is born in the east,

And the white rooftops drift asleep

Bound for Sourabaya!

© Charles Henry Souter

OH, the moon shines bright, and we sail to-night,

And were bound for Sourabaya!

Idea XLIII: Why should your fair eyes with such sovereign grace

© Michael Drayton

Why should your fair eyes with such sovereign grace

Disperse their rays on every vulgar spirit,

Campus Sonnets: Before An Examination

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.

Something Childish, but Very Natural

© Samuel Taylor Coleridge

Written in Germany
If I had but two little wings
And were a little feathery bird,
To you I'd fly, my dear!
But thoughts like these are idle things,
And I stay here.

Miranda’s Drowned Book

Perhaps not world enough, but I had time
to watch a hermit crab align himself
and back into a vacant whelk and haul
the home he wore from rocky A to B.
All that watching—watching for what? A sail
blown off its course by my uncalled-for sighs?