All Poems

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On the Welsh Language

© Katherine Philips

If honor to an ancient name be due,

Or riches challenge it for one that’s new,

Fidelis

© Adelaide Anne Procter

You have taken back the promise

That you spoke so long ago;

Desertion

© Rupert Brooke

So light we were, so right we were, so fair faith shone,

And the way was laid so certainly, that, when I'd gone,

Reserve

© Louise Imogen Guiney

You that are dear, O you above the rest!

Forgive him his evasive moods and cold;

Laugh and be merry, remember, better the world with a song,
Better the world with a blow in the teeth of a wrong.
Laugh, for the time is brief, a thread the length of a span.
Laugh and be proud to belong to the old proud pageant of man.

Marry Me by Veronica Patterson: American Life in Poetry #172 Ted Kooser, U.S. Poet Laureate 2004-200

© Ted Kooser

I don't often talk about poetic forms in this column, thinking that most of my readers aren't interested in how the clock works and would rather be given the time. But the following poem by Veronica Patterson of Colorado has a subtitle referring to a form, the senryu, and I thought it might be helpful to mention that the senryu is a Japanese form similar to haiku but dealing with people rather than nature. There; enough said. Now you can forget the form and enjoy the poem, which is a beautiful sketch of a marriage. Marry Me

when I come late to bed
I move your leg flung over my sideâ
that warm gate

I Found a Four-Leaf Clover

© Jack Prelutsky

I found a four-leaf clover

and was happy with my find,

The Blessing

© Mary Colborne-Veel

THE MASTER He was hungry:

from Lyrics of the Street

© Julia Ward Howe

Outside the Party
Thick throng the snow-flakes, the evening is dreary,
Glad rings the music in yonder gay hall;
On her who listens here, friendless and weary,
Heavier chill than the winters doth fall.

Family Love

© Amado Ruiz de Nervo

I adore my dear mother,
I adore my dear father too;
No one loves me as much
As they know how to love me.

The Sorrow of True Love ?

© Edward Thomas

The sorrow of true love is a great sorrow

And true love parting blackens a bright morrow:

The Telephone

© Harriet Monroe

Your voice, beloved, on the living wire,

Borne to me by the spirit powerful

Childhood Stories

© Matthew Rohrer

They learned to turn off the gravity in an auditorium

and we all rose into the air,

A Scot To Jeanne DArc

© Andrew Lang

DARK Lily without blame,

Not upon us the shame,

Address to the Devil

© Robert Burns

O thou! whatever title suit thee,—
Auld Hornie, Satan, Nick, or Clootie!
Wha in yon cavern, grim an' sootie,
Clos'd under hatches,
Spairges about the brunstane cootie
To scaud poor wretches!

The Idlers Calendar. Twelve Sonnets For The Months. October

GAMBLING AT MONACO
A jewelled kingdom set impregnable
In gardens green which front the violet sea,
A happy fortress shut and guarded well,

The Bench of Boors

In bed I muse on Tenier’s boors,
Embrowned and beery losels all:
A wakeful brain
Elaborates pain:
Within low doors the slugs of boors
Laze and yawn and doze again.

Not Understood

Tumultuous rushing o'er the outstretched plains;

A wildered maze of comets and of suns;

Domestic Violence

© Eavan Boland

It was winter, lunar, wet. At dusk
Pewter seedlings became moonlight orphans.
Pleased to meet you meat to please you
said the butcher's sign in the window in the village.

Korner And His Sister

Green wave the oak for ever o'er thy rest,
Thou that beneath its crowning foliage sleepest,
And, in the stillness of thy country's breast,
Thy place of memory, as an altar keepest;
Brightly thy spirit o'er her hills was pour'd,
Thou of the Lyre and Sword!