All Poems

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"Come Away, Come Away, Death"

© William Shakespeare

Come away, come away, death,

And in sad cypress let me be laid.

Modern Love: XIV

© George Meredith

What soul would bargain for a cure that brings

Contempt the nobler agony to kill?

In Ecstasy

© Erin Belieu

No need to be coy—
you know what
she’s doing

L'Adieu

© Guillaume Apollinaire

J'ai cueilli ce brin de bruyère
L'automne est morte souviens-t'en
Nous ne nous verrons plus sur terre
Odeur du temps Brin de bruyère
Et souviens-toi que je t'attends

In its color, shade and shine,
'T was a summer warm as wine,
With an effervescent flavoring of flowered bough and vine,
And a fragrance and a taste
Of ripe roses gone to waste,
And a dreamy sense of sun- and moon- and star-light interlaced.

Like New

© Michael Rosen

The ones too broke or wise to get parts
from a dealer come here where the mud is red
and eternal. Eight front ends

Complaining

© George Herbert

Do not beguile my heart,
Because thou art
My power and welcome. Put me not to shame,
Because I am
Thy clay that weeps, thy dust that calls.

The Spire

© Ellen Bryant Voigt

In the Bavarian steeple, on the hour,

two figures emerge from their scalloped house

Home to Roost

© Kay Ryan

The chickens

are circling and

The Ballad of Reading Gaol

© Oscar Wilde

He walked amongst the Trial Men
In a suit of shabby gray;
A cricket cap was on his head,
And his step seemed light and gay;
But I never saw a man who looked
So wistfully at the day.

The Kalevala - Rune XX

© Elias Lönnrot

THE BREWING OF BEER.

Summer near the River

© John Betjeman

I am as monogamous as the North Star,
But I don’t want you to know it. You’d only take advantage.
While you are as fickle as spring sunlight.
All right, sleep! The cat means more to you than I.
I can rouse you, but then you swagger out.
I glimpse you from the window, striding toward the river.

Upon my dear and loving husband his goeing into England, Jan. 16, 1661.

O thov most high who rulest All,

And hear'st the Prayers of Thine;

A Nocturnal upon St. Lucy's Day

© John Donne

'Tis the year's midnight, and it is the day's,

Lucy's, who scarce seven hours herself unmasks;

I

He dines alone surrounded by reflections

The Reef

My green aquarium of phantom fish,
Goggling in on me through the misty panes;
My rotting leaves and fields spongy with rains;
My few clear quiet autumn days--I wish