All Poems
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Despair
© Edith Nesbit
SMILE on me, mouth of red--so much too red,
Shine on me, eyes which darkened lashes shade,
Bindweed by James McKean: American Life in Poetry #62 Ted Kooser, U.S. Poet Laureate 2004-2006
© Ted Kooser
Gardeners who've fought Creeping Charlie and other unwanted plants may sympathize with James McKean from Iowa as he takes on Bindweed, a cousin to the two varieties of morning glory that appear in the poem. It's an endless struggle, and in the end, of course, the bindweed wins.
from [Eve Describes Her Creation] from Paradise Lost, Book 4
© Patrick Kavanagh
That day I oft remember, when from sleep
I first awak’d and found myself repos’d,
The Spirit Of The Snow
© Denis Florence MacCarthy
The night brings forth the morn-
Of the cloud is lightning born;
From out the darkest earth the brightest roses grow.
Bright sparks from black flints fly,
And from out a leaden sky
Comes the silvery-footed Spirit of the Snow.
To a Gentleman and Lady on the Death of the Lady's Brother and Sister, and a Child of the Name Avis, Aged One Year
© Phillis Wheatley
But, Madam, let your grief be laid aside,
And let the fountain of your tears be dry'd,
In vain they flow to wet the dusty plain,
Your sighs are wafted to the skies in vain,
Your pains they witness, but they can no more,
While Death reigns tyrant o'er this mortal shore.
Mozart's Requiem
© Felicia Dorothea Hemans
Not so, it is not so!
The warning voice I know,
From other worlds a strange mysterious tone;
A solemn funeral air
It call'd me to prepare,
And my heart answer'd secretly my own!
Fate
© George MacDonald
Oft, as I rest in quiet peace, am I
Thrust out at sudden doors, and madly driven
Master And Man
© Sir Henry Newbolt
Do ye ken hoo to fush for the salmon?
If ye'll listen I'll tell ye.
For No Clear Reason
© Robert Creeley
I dreamt last night
the fright was over, that
the dust came, and then water,
and women and men, together
again, and all was quiet
in the dim moon’s light.
Some Few Lines Made Upon The Sight Of Printed Papers Of Mr. William Houstouns
© William Cleland
To die obscure must be a dismal Fate,
Since Mortals purchase Fame at such a rate;
To the Angel Spirit of the Most Excellent Sir Philip Sidney
© Mary Sidney Herbert
(Variant printed in Samuel Daniel’s 1623 Works)
To thee, pure spirit, to thee alone addressed
The Forest Boy
© Charlotte Turner Smith
THE trees have now hid at the edge of the hurst
The spot where the ruins decay
Of the cottage, where Will of the Woodland was nursed,
And lived so beloved, till the moment accursed
We Are Some Disjointed Guitars...
© Kostas Karyotakis
We are some disjointed guitars.
When the wind blows through
discordant lines and sounds awaken
in the chainlike strings that dangle.
I Know, I Remember, But How Can I Help You
© Hayden Carruth
The northern lights. I wouldn’t have noticed them
if the deer hadn’t told me
Remarks Of Increase D. O'phace, Esquire
© James Russell Lowell
At An Extrumpery Caucus In State Street, Reported By Mr. H. Biglow
No? Hez he? He haint, though? Wut? Voted agin him?
The Owl And The Lark
© Alfred Austin
A grizzled owl at midnight moped
Where thick the ivy glistened;
So I, who long have vainly groped
For wisdom, leaned and listened.
