All Poems
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"Upon a day, came Sorrow in to me"
© Dante Alighieri
on the 9th of June 1290
Upon a day, came Sorrow in to me,
The Hut by the Black Swamp
© Henry Kendall
Now comes the fierce north-easter, bound
About with clouds and racks of rain,
And dry, dead leaves go whirling round
In rings of dust, and sigh like pain
Across the plain.
The Retreat From Moscow
© Victor Marie Hugo
It snowed. A defeat was our conquest red!
For once the eagle was hanging its head.
The Moonlit Room
© Lesbia Harford
I know a room that's dark in daytime hours;
No sunbeams light it,
Whether in months of gloom or months of flowers,
So people slight it.
Epiphany
© Madison Julius Cawein
There is nothing that eases my heart so much
As the wind that blows from the purple hills;
'Tis a hand of balsam whose healing touch
Unburdens my bosom of ills.
Education
© John Howard Payne
After telling that story
you burnt your hand on the iron,
burnt it yourself,
your punishment for breaking silence.
Sonnet (Written in a Volume of Shakespeare)
© Thomas Hood
How bravely Autumn paints upon the sky
The gorgeous fame of Summer which is fled!
Hues of all flow'rs, that in their ashes lie,
Trophied in that fair light whereon they fed,
from Hero and Leander: "It lies not in our power to love or hate"
© Christopher Marlowe
It lies not in our power to love or hate,
For will in us is overruled by fate.
You know the place: then
© Sappho
You know the place: then
Leave Crete and come to us
waiting where the grove is
pleasantest, by precincts
Peace In A Palace
© Alfred Noyes
_"All but the whimper of the sea gulls flying,
Endlessly round and round,
Waiting for the faces, the faces from the darkness,
The dreadful rising faces of the drowned._
When Sue Wears Red
© Langston Hughes
When Susanna Jones wears red
her face is like an ancient cameo
Turned brown by the ages.
Come with a blast of trumphets, Jesus!
The Gift
© Li-Young Lee
To pull the metal splinter from my palm
my father recited a story in a low voice.
I watched his lovely face and not the blade.
Before the story ended, he’d removed
the iron sliver I thought I’d die from.
Steadfast
© George MacDonald
Here stands a giant stone from whose far top
Comes down the sounding water: let me gaze
These Lacustrine Cities
© John Ashbery
These lacustrine cities grew out of loathing
Into something forgetful, although angry with history.
They are the product of an idea: that man is horrible, for instance,
Though this is only one example.
Lucy
© Robert Bloomfield
Thy favourite Bird is soaring still:
My Lucy, haste thee o'er the dale;
The Stream's let loose, and from the Mill
All silent comes the balmy gale;
Yet, so lightly on its way,
Seems to whisper 'Holiday.'
Two Little Dickie Birds
© Pierre Reverdy
Two little dickie birds sitting on a wall,
One named Peter, one named Paul.
Fly away, Peter! Fly away, Paul!
Come back, Peter! Come back, Paul!
The Sheets
© Pierre Reverdy
Smudged here with betel juice, burnished there
with aloe paste, a splash of powder in one corner,
and lacquer from footprints embroidered in another,
with flowers from her hair strewn all over
its winding crumpled folds, the sheets celebrate
the joy of making love to a woman in every position.
Cleopatra.
© Robert Crawford
The asp, her baby, on her breast,
She falls asleep,
Ever, like Antony, to rest
While Nile shall keep
Hymn to Life
© James Schuyler
The wind rests its cheek upon the ground and feels the cool damp
And lifts its head with twigs and small dead blades of grass
