All Poems
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Dream-Land
© Edgar Allan Poe
By a route obscure and lonely,
Haunted by ill angels only,
Where an Eidolon, named NIGHT,
On a black throne reigns upright,
I have wandered home but newly
From this ultimate dim Thule.
In Mine One Monument I Lye
© Richard Lovelace
In mine one monument I lye,
And in my self am buried;
Sure, the quick lightning of her eye
Melted my soul ith' scabberd dead;
And now like some pale ghost I walk,
And with another's spirit talk.
Rat Song
© Margaret Atwood
When you hear me singing
you get the rifle down
and the flashlight, aiming for my brain,
but you always miss
National Song (E.C.)
© Ezra Pound
There is no land like England
Where banks rise day by day,
There are no banks like English banks
To make the people pay.
Aside
© Ishmael Reed
Mail-day, and over the world in a thousand drag-nets
The bundles of letters are dumped on the docks and beaches,
And all that is dear to the personal conscious reaches
Around us again like filings around iron magnets,
And war stands aside for an hour and looks at our faces
Of total absorption that seem to have lost their places.
El Dorado
© John Ashbery
We have a friend in common, the retired sophomore.
His concern: that I shall get it like that,
The Vanguard [1]
© Henry Lawson
Let the Jingo in his blindness cant and cackle as he will;
But across the path from Asia run the Russian trenches still!
And the sahib in his rickshaw may loll back and smoke at ease,
While the haggard, ragged heroes man the battered batteries.
Canada
© Billy Collins
I am writing this on a strip of white birch bark
that I cut from a tree with a penknife.
There is no other way to express adequately
the immensity of the clouds that are passing over the farms
and wooded lakes of Ontario and the endless visibility
that hands you the horizon on a platter.
The Usurper
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
FOR weeks the languid southern wind had blown,
Fraught with Floridian balm; thro' winter skies
We seemed to catch the smile of April's eyes;
A queenly waif, from her far temperate zone
[Deeply repentant of my sinful ways]
© Gaspara Stampa
Deeply repentant of my sinful ways
And of my trivial, manifold desires,
Relating to Robinson
© Weldon Kees
Somewhere in Chelsea, early summer;
And, walking in the twilight toward the docks,
I thought I made out Robinson ahead of me.
Nuns of the Perpetual Adoration
© Ernest Christopher Dowson
Calm, sad, secure; behind high convent walls,
These watch the sacred lamp, these watch and pray:
And it is one with them when evening falls,
And one with them the cold return of day.
