All Poems
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Limerick:There was an Old Person of Tartary
© Edward Lear
There was an Old Person of Tartary,
Who divided his jugular artery;
But he screeched to his wife,
And she said, 'Oh, my life!
Your death will be felt by all Tartary!'
Wanting to Be Able To
© Piet Hein
'Impossibilities' are good
not to attach that label to;
since, correctly understood,
if we wanted to, we would
be able to be able to.
Ex Libris
© Hugo Williams
By the stream, where the ground is soft
and gives, under the slightest pressure—even
“Crying, my little one, footsore and weary”
© Christina Georgina Rossetti
Crying, my little one, footsore and weary?
Fall asleep, pretty one, warm on my shoulder:
I must tramp on through the winter night dreary,
While the snow falls on me colder and colder.
The Book Of Paradise - The Seven Sleepers
© Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
And the sheep-dog will not leave them,--
Scared away, his foot all-mangled,
To his master still he presses,
And he joins the hidden party,
Joins the favorites of slumber.
Haverhill
© John Greenleaf Whittier
O river winding to the sea!
We call the old time back to thee;
From forest paths and water-ways
The century-woven veil we raise.
Days of 1994: Alexandrians
© Marilyn Hacker
for Edmund White
Lunch: as we close the twentieth century,
death, like a hanger-on or a wanna-be
sits with us at the cluttered bistro
table, inflecting the conversation.
The Bridal of the Year
© Denis Florence MacCarthy
Yes! the Summer is returning,
Warmer, brighter beams are burning
Fæsulan Idyl
© Heather Fuller
She drew back
The boon she tendered, and then, finding not
The ribbon at her waist to fix it in,
Dropt it, as loth to drop it, on the rest.
To Robin Redbreast
© George Meredith
Merrily 'mid the faded leaves,
O Robin of the bright red breast!
To John Clare
© John Clare
Well, honest John, how fare you now at home?
The spring is come, and birds are building nests;
January 22nd, Missolonghi
© Lord Byron
On this Day I Complete my Thirty-Sixth Year
'Tis time this heart should be unmoved,
Since others it hath ceased to move:
Yet though I cannot be beloved,
Still let me love!
The Little Town O' Tailholt
© James Whitcomb Riley
You kin boast about yer cities, and their stiddy growth and size,
And brag about yer County-seats, and business enterprise,
And railroads, and factories, and all sich foolery--
But the little Town o' Tailholt is big enough fer me!
Information
© William Rose Benet
He had green eyes, that excellent seer,
And little peaks to either ear.
He sat there, and I sat here.
Fresh Air
© Kenneth Koch
3
Summer in the trees! “It is time to strangle several bad poets.”
The yellow hobbyhorse rocks to and fro, and from the chimney
Drops the Strangler! The white and pink roses are slightly agitated by the struggle,
But afterwards beside the dead “poet” they cuddle up comfortingly against their vase. They are safer now, no one will compare them to the sea.
Obsession
© Paul Eluard
After years of wisdom
During which the world was transparent as a needle
Was it cooing about something else?
After having vied with returned favours squandered treasure
