All Poems

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The Darned Mounseer

© William Schwenck Gilbert

I shipped, d'ye see, in a Revenue sloop,

And, off Cape Finisteere,

The Eighth of September

© Pablo Neruda

This day, Today, was a brimming glass.
This day, Today, was an immense wave.
This day was all the Earth.
This day, the storm-driven ocean

I have a place on the Chungnan slopes.
Sitting there you can see the Mountains.
No one there, no guests, the gate is closed.
No plans all day, just time and silence.
Nothing stops you gazing and dreaming.
Why not come and try to find me there?

Fifth Grade Autobiography

© Rita Dove

I was four in this photograph fishing
with my grandparents at a lake in Michigan.
My brother squats in poison ivy.
His Davy Crockett cap
sits squared on his head so the raccoon tail
flounces down the back of his sailor suit.

A Winter Night

© John Hay

The winter wind is raving fierce and shrill

And chides with angry moan the frosty skies,

A New York Child’s Garden of Verses

© Edwin Morgan

In winter I get up at night,
And dress by an electric light.
In summer, autumn, ay, and spring,
I have to do the self-same thing.

The Troglodyte

© Madison Julius Cawein

In ages dead, a troglodyte,

At the hollow roots of a monster height,--

The Princess: Come down, O Maid

© Alfred Tennyson

Come down, O maid, from yonder mountain height:

Discovery

© Margaret Widdemer

WITHIN my mirror I could see
Last night as I gazed steadfastly
An old strange thing look out at me;

The Three Brothers Budrys

© Adam Mickiewicz

Doughty Budrys the old, Lithuanian bold,
He has summoned his lusty sons three.
"Your chargers stand idle, now saddle and bridle
And out with your broadswords," quoth he.

The Common A-Took In

© William Barnes

Oh! no, Poll, no! Since they've a-took

The common in, our lew wold nook

Moonshine

© Yusef Komunyakaa

Drunken laughter escapes

Behind the fence woven

A Holy Week Song, 1918

© Katharine Tynan

Now when Christ died for man his sake

A myriad men must die;

The Departed

IF no one ever went ahead,
If we had seen no friend depart
And mourned him for a while as dead,
How great would be our fear to start.

Persimmons

© Li-Young Lee

In sixth grade Mrs. Walker
slapped the back of my head
and made me stand in the corner
for not knowing the difference
between persimmon and precision.
How to choose

In The Blue Heaven

In the blue heaven the clouds will come and go,

Scudding before the gale, or drifting slow

Irish Poetry

That morning under a pale hood of sky
I heard the unambiguous scrape of spackling
against the side of our wickered, penitential house.

The Lady Of La Garaye - Prologue

This was the Chapel: that the stair:
Here, where all lies damp and bare,
The fragrant thurible was swung,
The silver lamp in beauty hung,
And in that mass of ivied shade
The pale nuns sang--the abbot prayed.