All Poems

/ page 1767 of 3210 /

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Spiral

© Roddy Lumsden

These years lift over coldly now: Aprils
and Augusts are gifted to ice, or sprawl
into mid-summers or year ends—pillars
of lesser standing. Still come no replies

The Banner Of The Jew

© Emma Lazarus

Wake, Israel, wake! Recall to-day
The glorious Maccabean rage,
The sire heroic, hoary-gray,
His five-fold lion-lineage:
The Wise, the Elect, the Help-of-God,
The Burst-of-Spring, the Avenging Rod.

Experience

© Ralph Waldo Emerson

The lords of life, the lords of life,

I saw them pass,

Epitaph

© Ezra Pound

Leucis, who intended a Grand Passion,

Ends with a willingness-to-oblige.

Another Reluctance

© Annie Finch

Chestnuts fell in the charred season,
Fell finally, finding room
In air to open their old cases
So they gleam out from the gold leaves,
In the dusk now, where they dropped down.

Af Studenters Rentekammer

© Anders Christensen Bording

Jeg gik fra første Barns Been af

I Skolen som jeg burde,

Hymn to the Comb-Over

© Wesley McNair

How the thickest of them erupt just

above the ear, cresting in waves so stiff

The bright blessed day with joy we see

© Nicolaj Frederik Severin Grundtvig

The bright blessed day with joy we see
Rise out of the sea at dawning;
It lightens the sky unceasingly,
Our gain and delight adorning!
As children of light we sense that soon
Dark night will give way to morning!

Modern Love: L

© George Meredith

Thus piteously Love closed what he begat:

The union of this ever-diverse pair!

To The Reader

© John Bunyan

The title page will show, if there thou look,
Who are the proper subjects of this book.
They're boys and girls of all sorts and degrees,

Two Views of Buson

© Robert Hass

1
A French scholar says he affected the Chinese manner.
When he took his friends into the countryside
To look at blossoms, they all saw Chinese blossoms.
He dressed accordingly and wept for the wild geese of Shosho.

Song of Myself

© Walt Whitman

Creeds and schools in abeyance,
Retiring back a while sufficed at what they are, but never forgotten,
I harbor for good or bad, I permit to speak at every hazard,
Nature without check with original energy.

The Hour Of Prayer

© Felicia Dorothea Hemans

Child, amidst the flowers at play,

While the red light fades away;

Suzanna Socked Me Sunday

© Jack Prelutsky

Suzanna socked me Sunday,
she socked me Monday, too,
she also socked me Tuesday,
I was turning black and blue.

First Praise

Lady of dusk-wood fastnesses,
Thou art my Lady.
I have known the crisp, splintering leaf-tread with thee on before,
White, slender through green saplings;
I have lain by thee on the brown forest floor
Beside thee, my Lady.

Sonnets from the Portuguese 43: How do I love thee? Let me count the ways

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.

I love thee to the depth and breadth and height

After The French Manner

As Pope who gathers mony to translate
With Gay the Shepheard Writer mett of late.
Says Pope, your Ecclogues wont come out wth speed
For Phillips to reprieve him Tonson feed.
Indeed the story may be true, says Gay,
For Your Subscriptions give him powr to pay.