All Poems
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The Bushman
© Anonymous
When the merchant lies down, he can scarce go to sleep
For thinking of his merchandise upon the fatal deep;
His ships may be cast away or taken in a war,
So him alone we'll envy not, who true bushmen are.
Lines To Six-Foot Three
© George Borrow
A lad, who twenty tongues can talk
And sixty miles a day can walk;
Fragment: Satan Broken Loose
© Percy Bysshe Shelley
A golden-winged Angel stood
Before the Eternal Judgement-seat:
His looks were wild, and Devils' blood
Stained his dainty hands and feet.
Das Erdbeben
© Gotthold Ephraim Lessing
Bruder, Bruder, halte mich!
Warum kann ich denn nicht stehen?
Warum kannst du denn nicht gehen?
Bruder geh, ich fuehre dich.
Three Years She Grew
© André Breton
Three years she grew in sun and shower,
Then Nature said, "A lovelier flower
On earth was never sown;
This Child I to myself will take;
She shall be mine, and I will make
A Lady of my own.
In The Pace
© Arthur Symons
This is the church of Peace.
Sibyls of the East and West,
Teach me your secret, to release
With ancient wisdom that old rest
Which is in heaven called peace.
Rimas XXXIX
© Gustavo Adolfo Becquer
?A que me lo decis? lo se: es mudable,
Es altanera y vana y caprichosa;
Antes que el sentimiento de su alma,
Brotara el agua de la esteril roca.
The Magic of Numbers
© Kenneth Koch
The Magic of Numbers—1
How strange it was to hear the furniture being moved around in the apartment upstairs!
Contrasted Songs: Song For The Night Of Christ's Resurrection
© Jean Ingelow
(A Humble Imitation)
And birds of calm sit brooding on the charmed wave.
Ovid in the Third Reich
© Geoffrey Hill
I love my work and my children. God
Is distant, difficult. Things happen.
Too near the ancient troughs of blood
Innocence is no earthly weapon.
"The falling is the constant mate of fear"
© Osip Emilevich Mandelstam
The falling is the constant mate of fear,
And feel of emptiness is the feel of fright.
Who throws us the stones from the height --
And stones here refuse the dust to bear?
Pajama Quotient
© Michael Rosen
Coinage of the not-yet-wholly-
hardened custodians of public
health, as health is roughly measured
?in the rougher parts of Dearborn.
Four Poems for Robin
© Gary Snyder
December at Yase
You said, that October,
In the tall dry grass by the orchard
When you chose to be free,
“Again someday, maybe ten years.”
Moving Bells
© Henry Van Dyke
Dear is the magic of this hour: she seems
To walk before the dark by falling rills,
And lend a sweeter song to hidden streams;
She opens all the doors of night, and fills
With moving bells the music of my dreams,
That wander far among the sleeping hills.
Christmas Eve: My Mother Dressing
© Toi Derricotte
My mother was not impressed with her beauty;
once a year she put it on like a costume,
Dogs Are Shakespearean, Children Are Strangers
© Delmore Schwartz
Dogs are Shakespearean, children are strangers.
Let Freud and Wordsworth discuss the child,
The Old Liberators
© Robert Hedin
Of all the people in the mornings at the mall,
it’s the old liberators I like best,
