All Poems
/ page 1737 of 3210 /On Seeing The Captives, Lately Redeem'd From Barbary By His Majesty.
© Mary Barber
A sight like this, who can unmov'd survey?
Impartial Muse, can'st thou with--hold thy Lay?
See the freed Captives hail their native Shore,
And tread the Land of Liberty once more:
See, as they pass, the crouding People press,
Joy in their Joy, and their Dellv'rer bless.
Deep In A Yew-Sequestered Grove
© Mathilde Blind
Deep in a yew-sequestered grove
I sat and wept my heart away;
A child came by at close of day
With eyes as sweet as new-born love.
from Odes: 10. Chorus of Furies
© Ted Hughes
Guarda mi disse, le feroce Erine
Let us come upon him first as if in a dream,
My Ladye's Eyen
© Franklin Pierce Adams
Poets ther ben in plenteous line yt take ye auncient theme
Of singing to a ladye's eyen whiche maken them to dreme,
And through ye blessed hours of slepe--thilk eyen or browne or blue
Doe soothe ye poet's slumbers deep: by goddiswoundes thaie doe!
My Heart Goes Out
© Stevie Smith
My heart goes out to my Creator in love
Who gave me Death, as end and remedy.
All living creatures come to quiet Death
For him to eat up their activity
And give them nothing, which is what they want although
When they are living they do not think so.
Madeline. A Domestic Tale
© Felicia Dorothea Hemans
My child, my child, thou leav'st me!âI shall hear
The gentle voice no more that blest mine ear
1941
© Ruth Stone
I wore a large brim hat
like the women in the ads.
How thin I was: such skin.
Yes. It was Indianapolis;
a taste of sin.
Sharing
© George MacDonald
On the far horizon there
Heaps of cloudy darkness rest;
Though the wind is in the air
There is stupor east and west.
Retreat
© John Fuller
I should like to live in a sunny town like this
Where every afternoon is half-day closing
And I would wait at the terminal for the one train
Of the day, pacing the platform, and no one arriving.
Martha
© Lesbia Harford
Sometimes I lose
My power of loving for an hour or two,
Then I misuse
My knowledge of friends' secrets to abuse
from The Emigrants: A Poem
© Charlotte Turner Smith
[Disillusion with the French Revolution]
So many years have passed,
Love In The Guise Of Friendship
© Robert Burns
Talk not of love, it gives me pain,
For love has been my foe;
He bound me in an iron chain,
And plung'd me deep in woe.
Fragments Of A Lost Gnostic Poem Of The Twelfth Century
© Herman Melville
Found a family, build a state,
The pledged event is still the same:
Matter in end will never abate
His ancient brutal claim.
For My Daughter
© Weldon Kees
Looking into my daughter’s eyes I read
Beneath the innocence of morning flesh
'Siena Mi Fe'; Disfecemi Maremma'
© Ezra Pound
Among the pickled foetuses and bottled bones,
Engaged in perfecting the catalogue,
I found the last scion of the
Senatorial families of Strasbourg, Monsieur Verog.
The Emperor of Ice-Cream
© Edwin Muir
Call the roller of big cigars,
The muscular one, and bid him whip