All Poems
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To Dives
© Ezra Pound
Who am I to condemn you, O Dives,
I who am as much embittered
With poverty
As you are with useless riches ?
In Memoriam A. H. H. OBIIT MDCCCXXXIII: 95
© Alfred Tennyson
By night we linger'd on the lawn,
For underfoot the herb was dry;
And genial warmth; and o'er the sky
The silvery haze of summer drawn;
Returning of Issue
© Henry Reed
Tomorrow will be your last day here. Someone is speaking:
A familiar voice, speaking again at all of us.
And beyond the windows it is inside now, and autumn
On a wind growing daily harsher, small things to the earth
Are turning and whirling, small. Tomorrow will be
Your last day here,
In the Reading-Room of the British Museum
© Louise Imogen Guiney
Thou therefore, moon of so divine a ray,
Lend to our steps both fortitude and light!
Feebly along a venerable way
They climb the infinite, or perish quite;
Nothing are days and deeds to such as they,
While in this liberal house thy face is bright.
Exorcism
© Robert Friend
I know who's scratching at the door.
Clock, there's no use yawning.
More than boards are loose in the floor
I wasn't born this morning.
Maud XVIII: I have led her Home, my love, my only friend
© Alfred Tennyson
I have led her home, my love, my only friend,
There is none like her, none.
And never yet so warmly ran my blood
And sweetly, on and on
Calming itself to the long-wished-for end,
Full to the banks, close on the promised good.
Bixby’s Landing
© Robinson Jeffers
They burned lime on the hill and dropped it down here in an iron car
On a long cable; here the ships warped in
Sonnet IV.
© John Milton
Diodati, e te'l diro con maraviglia,
Quel ritroso io ch'amor spreggiar solea
E de suoi lacci spesso mi ridea
Gia caddi, ov'huom dabben talhor s'impiglia.
'Faraz' ab ko_ii saudaa naheen
© Ahmad Faraz
'Faraz' ab ko_ii saudaa naheen junuu.N bhii nahii.n
magar qaraar se din kaT rahe ho.n yuu.N bhii nahii.n
from Omeros
© Derek Walcott
In hill-towns, from San Fernando to Mayagüez,
the same sunrise stirred the feathered lances of cane
down the archipelago’s highways. The first breeze
Hymn XI: God, the Offended God Most High
© Charles Wesley
God, the offended God most high,
Ambassadors to rebels sends;
His messengers his place supply,
And Jesus begs us to be friends.
Courante Monsieur.
© Richard Lovelace
That frown, Aminta, now hath drown'd
Thy bright front's pow'r, and crown'd
Me that was bound.
No, no, deceived cruel, no!
Love's fiery darts,
Till tipt with kisses, never kindle hearts.
Childhood Ideogram
© Larry Levis
I lay my head sideways on the desk,
My fingers interlocked under my cheekbones,
When Nightingales Their Lulling Song
© Bernard de Ventadorn
I know not when we meet again,
For grief hath rent my heart in twain:
For thee the royal court I fled,--
But guard me from the ills I dread,
And quick I'll join the bright array
Of courteous knights and ladies gay.
San Biagio, at Montepulciano
© Raymond Carver
Columns, arches, vaults: how he knew
The ways you promise what you lack;
And that your bodies, like your souls,
Always slip from our grasping hands.
The Virgin Considered As A Picture
© Edgar Bowers
Her unawed face, whose pose so long assumed
Is touched with what reality we feel,
Bends to itself and, to itself resumed,
Restores a tender fiction to the real.
Up at a Villa—Down in the City
© Robert Browning
(As Distinguished by an Italian Person of Quality)
Had I but plenty of money, money enough and to spare,
The house for me, no doubt, were a house in the city-square;
Ah, such a life, such a life, as one leads at the window there!
His Philosophy
© Edgar Albert Guest
JIM had a quaint philosophy,
"It ain't fer you, it's jes' fer me,"
