All Poems
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The Poster-Girl after Dante Gabriel Rossetti
© Carolyn Wells
The blessed Poster-girl leaned out
From a pinky-purple heaven;
One eye was red and one was green;
Her bang was cut uneven;
She had three fingers on her hand,
And the hairs on her head were seven.
The Convalescent To Her Physician
© Sydney Thompson Dobell
Friend, by whose cancelling hand did Fate forgive
Her debtor, and rescribe her stern award,
Imitated from Wordsworth
© Robert Fuller Murray
He brought a team from Inversnaid
To play our Third Fifteen,
A man whom none of us had played
And very few had seen.
The Weakness
© Toi Derricotte
That time my grandmother dragged me
through the perfume aisles at Saks, she held me up
Love Me Little, Love Me Long
© Pierre Reverdy
Love me little, love me long,
Is the burden of my song.
To A Young Gentleman In Love. A Tale
© Matthew Prior
From publick Noise and factious Strife,
From all the busie Ills of Life,
Schemhammphorasch
© Rose Terry Cooke
‘This is the key which was given by the angel Michael to Pali, and by Pali to Moses. If “thou canst read it, then shalt thou understand the words of men, … the whistling of birds, the language of date-trees, the unity of hearts, ... nay, even the thoughts of the rains.”’
Gleanings after the Talmud
Rule Britannia
© James Thomson
When Britain first, at heaven's command,
Arose from out the azure main,
This was the charter of the land,
And guardian angels sung this strain—
"Rule, Britannia, rule the waves;
Britons never will be slaves."
The Yellowhammer's Nest
© John Clare
Just by the wooden brig a bird flew up,
Frit by the cowboy as he scrambled down
The Song of a Prison
© Henry Lawson
Tis a song of the weary warders, whom prisoners call the screws
A class of men who I fancy would cleave to the Evening News.
They look after their treasures sadly. By the screw of their keys they are known,
And they screw them many times daily before they draw their own.
My mother’s body
© Marge Piercy
The dark socket of the year
the pit, the cave where the sun lies down
and threatens never to rise,
when despair descends softly as the snow
covering all paths and choking roads:
Not Here
© Jane Kenyon
Tufts of fibers, droppings like black
caraway seeds, and the stains of birth
and afterbirth give off the strong
unforgettable attar of mouse
that permeates an old farmhouse
on humid summer days.
Lord Of My Heart's Elation
© Bliss William Carman
I, too, must climb in wonder,
Uplift at thy command,
Be one with my frail fellows
Beneath the wind's strong hand,
Fair Susan Did Her Wif-Hede Well Menteine - In Chaucer's Style
© Matthew Prior
Fair Susan did her wif-hede well menteine,
Algates assaulted sore by letchours tweine;
Now, and I read aright that auncient song,
Olde were the paramours, the dame full yong.
A private public space
© Richard Jones
to your party and they don’t come,
they’re too busy tending vaginal
flowers, hating football, walking their golden
and chocolate labs. X gave me a poem
The Sparrow's Fall
© Frances Ellen Watkins Harper
And lifted the gloomy shadows
That overspread my life,
And flooding my home with gladness,
Made me a happy wife.
In Memoriam A. H. H. OBIIT MDCCCXXXIII: 126
© Alfred Tennyson
Love is and was my Lord and King,
And in his presence I attend
To hear the tidings of my friend,
Which every hour his couriers bring.
