All Poems
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To Mr. Pope
© Thomas Parnell
To praise, and still with just respect to praise
A Bard triumphant in immortal bays,
The Learn'd to show, the Sensible commend,
Yet still preserve the province of the Friend,
What life, what vigour must the lines require?
What Music tune them, what affection fire?
To Helen
© Edgar Allan Poe
Helen, thy beauty is to me
Like those Nicéan barks of yore,
That gently, o'er a perfumed sea,
The weary, way-worn wanderer bore
To his own native shore.
Cold
© Madison Julius Cawein
A mist that froze beneath the moon and shook
Minutest frosty fire in the air.
A Shropshire Lad XXXI: On Wenlock Edge the wood's in trouble
© Alfred Edward Housman
On Wenlock Edge the wood's in trouble;
His forest fleece the Wrekin heaves;
The gale, it plies the saplings double,
And thick on Severn snow the leaves.
© Billy Collins
In the dining room there is a brown fish
hanging on the wall who swims along
in his frame while we are eating dinner.
The Rolling English Road
© Gilbert Keith Chesterton
Before the Roman came to Rye or out to Severn strode,
The rolling English drunkard made the rolling English road.
A reeling road, a rolling road, that rambles round the shire,
And after him the parson ran, the sexton and the squire;
A merry road, a mazy road, and such as we did tread
The night we went to Birmingham by way of Beachy Head.
On Virtue
© Phillis Wheatley
O thou bright jewel in my aim I strive
To comprehend thee. Thine own words declare
A Rocket in My Pocket
© Pierre Reverdy
I've got a rocket
In my pocket;
I cannot stop to play.
Away it goes!
I've burned my toes.
It's Independence Day.
April 18
© Sylvia Plath
and if my stomach would contract
because of some explicable phenomenon
such as pregnancy or constipation
The Dying Hunter to his Dog
© Susanna Moodie
Lie down—lie down!—my noble hound,
That joyful bark give o’er;
Alaskan Balladry, No.1
© Eugene Field
The Northland reared his hoary head
And spied the Southland leagues away-
"Fairest of all fair brides," he said,
"Be thou my bride, I pray!"
A Song of a Young Lady to Her Ancient Lover
© John Wilmot
Ancient person, for whom I
All the flattering youth defy,
Long be it ere thou grow old,
Aching, shaking, crazy, cold;
But still continue as thou art,
Ancient person of my heart.
Rewards Of Earth
© Fulke Greville
REWARDS of earth, Nobility and Fame,
To senses glory and to conscience woe,
How little be you for so great a name?
Yet less is he with men what thinks you so.
For earthly power, that stands by fleshly wit,
Hath banished that truth which should govern it.
The Love Sonnets Of Proteus. Part IV: Vita Nova: LXXXV
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
THE SAME CONTINUED
These flowers shall be my offering, living flowers
Which here shall die with you in sacrifice,
Flowers from the empty fields which once were yours
Holy Thursday: Is this a holy thing to see
© William Blake
Is this a holy thing to see,
In a rich and fruitful land,
Babes reducd to misery,
Fed with cold and usurous hand?
Upon Prue, His Maid
© Robert Herrick
In this little urn is laid
Prudence Baldwin, once my maid,
From whose happy spark here let
Spring the purple violet.
