All Poems

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The Question

© Ruth Stone

While needles of the evergreen

practice a windy chaos,

Time Without End

© Arthur Rimbaud

We have found it again.
What? Time without end.
'Tis the ocean gone
For a walk with the sun.

To the Rose upon the Rood of Time

© William Butler Yeats

Red Rose, proud Rose, sad Rose of all my days!

Come near me, while I sing the ancient ways:

The Sun-Dial

© Henry Austin Dobson

'Tis an old dial, dark with many a stain;
In summer crowned with drifting orchard bloom,
Tricked in the autumn with the yellow rain,
And white in winter like a marble tomb.

Nothing New

© Wilcox Ella Wheeler

Oh, what am I but an engine, shod
With muscle and flesh, by the hand of God,
Speeding on through the dense, dark night,
Guided alone by the souls white light.

The Idols

© Robert Laurence Binyon

I.2
The Forests of the Night awaken blind in heat
Of black stupor; and stirring in its deep retreat,
I hear the heart of Darkness slowly beat and beat.

And what if all of animated nature
Be but organic Harps diversely framed,
That tremble into thought, as o’er them sweeps
Plastic and vast, one intellectual breeze,
At once the Soul of each, and God of all?

La Saeta

© Antonio Machado

Dijo una voz popular:
Quién me presta una escalera
para subir al madero
para quitarle los clavos
a Jesús el Nazareno?

O Thou Dread Power

© Robert Burns

O Thou dread Power, who reign'st above,
I know thou wilt me hear,
When for this scene of peace and love
I make this prayer sincere.

What The Chairman Told Tom

© Basil Bunting

Poetry? It's a hobby.
I run model trains.
Mr Shaw there breeds pigeons.

The Watchers

© John Greenleaf Whittier

BESIDE a stricken field I stood;

On the torn turf, on grass and wood,

Of Old Sat Freedom on the Heights

© Alfred Tennyson

Of old sat Freedom on the heights,
The thunders breaking at her feet:
Above her shook the starry lights:
She heard the torrents meet.

A la France

© Victor Marie Hugo

Personne pour toi. Tous sont d'accord. Celui-ci,

Nommé Gladstone, dit à tes bourreaux : merci !

To Katharine: At Fourteen Months by Joelle Biele: American Life in Poetry #174 Ted Kooser, U.S. Poet

© Ted Kooser

I'd guess you've all seen a toddler hold something over the edge of a high-chair and then let it drop, just for the fun of it. Here's a lovely picture of a small child learning the laws of physics. The poet, Joelle Biele, lives in Maryland.