All Poems

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A Classroom Assignment

© Anonymous

On Freedom
By Thomas S. Sidney, aged 12 Years
October 21st, 1828

Unknown Girl in the Maternity Ward

© Anne Sexton

Child, the current of your breath is six days long.

You lie, a small knuckle on my white bed;

The Isles Of Sleep.

© Robert Crawford

The opiate isles upon time's sea
In the dream-dark
Rise with their harbours silently
Before each day-abandoned bark,

Of Robert Frost

© Gwendolyn Brooks

There is a little lightning in his eyes.
Iron at the mouth.
His brows ride neither too far up nor down.

The Cherry Trees

© Robert Laurence Binyon

Out of the dusk of distant woods
All round beneath the April skies
Blossom--white, the cherry trees
Like lovely apparitions rise,

Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Blackbird

© Edwin Muir

I
Among twenty snowy mountains,
The only moving thing
Was the eye of the blackbird.

To Sir George Howland Beaumont, Bart From the South-West Coast Or Cumberland 1811

© William Wordsworth

FAR from our home by Grasmere's quiet Lake,
From the Vale's peace which all her fields partake,
Here on the bleakest point of Cumbria's shore
We sojourn stunned by Ocean's ceaseless roar;

Salvation

© Stephen Dunn

Finally, I gave up on obeisance,
and refused to welcome
either retribution or the tease

THE dew was falling fast, the stars began to blink;
I heard a voice; it said, "Drink, pretty creature, drink!"
And, looking o'er the hedge, before me I espied
A snow-white mountain-lamb with a Maiden at its side.

Rosalinds Madrigal

© Thomas Lodge

Love in my bosom like a bee

Doth suck his sweet;

Grand Rapids

© Julia A Moore

Air - "Bright Alfaretta"

I am the Living Bread: Meditation Eight: John 6:51

© Edward Taylor

I kening through Astronomy Divine
The Worlds bright Battlement, wherein I spy
A Golden Path my Pensill cannot line,
From that bright Throne unto my Threshold ly.
And while my puzzled thoughts about it pore
I finde the Bread of Life in't at my doore.

Earlier Poems : Burial Of The Minnisink

On sunny slope and beechen swell,
The shadowed light of evening fell;
And, where the maple's leaf was brown,
With soft and silent lapse came down,
The glory, that the wood receives,
At sunset, in its golden leaves.

A Une Femme

To you these lines for the consoling grace
Of your great eyes wherein a soft dream shines,
For your pure soul, all-kind!-to you these lines
From the black deeps of mine unmatched distress.