All Poems
/ page 1832 of 3210 /Sonnet LI: I Must Not Grieve My Love
© Samuel Daniel
I must not grieve my Love, whose eyes would read
Lines of delight, whereon her youth might smile;
Pentatina for Five Vowels
© Louis Zukofsky
Today is a trumpet to set the hounds baying.
The past is a fox the hunters are flaying.
Nothing unspoken goes without saying.
Love’s a casino where lovers risk playing.
The future’s a marker our hearts are prepaying.
Sonnet 54: "O how much more doth beauty beauteous seem..."
© William Shakespeare
O how much more doth beauty beauteous seem,
By that sweet ornament which truth doth give!
from Odes: 15 ["Nothing"]
© Ted Hughes
Nothing
substance utters or time
stills and restrains
joins design and
Thomas Jefferson
© Stephen Vincent Benet
Thomas Jefferson,
What do you say
Under the gravestone
Hidden away?
Structure of Rime XXVIII: In Memoriam Wallace Stevens
© Robert Duncan
“That God is colouring Newton doth shew”—William Blake
Erecting beyond the boundaries of all government his grand Station and Customs, I find what I have made there a Gate, a staking out of his art in Inconsequence. I have in mind a poetry that will frame the willingness of the heart and deliver it over to the arrest of Time, a sentence as if there could stand some solidity most spacial in its intent against the drifts and appearances that arise and fall away in time from the crude events of physical space. The Mind alone holds the consequence of the erection to be true, so that Desire and Imagination usurp the place of the Invisible Throne.
Song #12.
© Robert Crawford
I have brought thee all the faith
That a man can give,
I have sheltered thee with love,
O life's fugitive!
The King Of Candyland
© Wilcox Ella Wheeler
Have you heard of the king of Candy land?
Well, listen while I sing,
He has pages on every hand,
For he is a mighty king,
And thousands of children bend the knee,
And bow to this ruler of high degree.
Stanzas
© Sir Henry Parkes
Up go the beautiful and world-watch'd stars,
Lifting the glory of America,
How We Made a New Art on Old Ground
© Eavan Boland
A famous battle happened in this valley.
You never understood the nature poem.
Till now. Till this moment—if these statements
seem separate, unrelated, follow this
To Thyrza: And Thou Art Dead, As Young And Fair
© George Gordon Byron
And thou art dead, as young and fair
As aught of mortal birth;
Simone Weil: The Year of Factory Work (1934-1935)
© Edward Hirsch
A glass of red wine trembles on the table,
Untouched, and lamplight falls across her shoulders.
"O this air, intoxicated with sedition"
© Osip Emilevich Mandelstam
O this air, intoxicated with sedition,
On the black square of the Kremlin.
The agitators rock the teetering world .
It smells of restless poplars.
Division Of An Estate
© George Moses Horton
It well bespeaks a man beheaded, quite
Divested of the laurel robe of life,
When every member struggles for its base,
The head; the power of order now recedes,
In Memory of a Child
© Roald Dahl
I
The angels guide him now,
And watch his curly head,
And lead him in their games,
The little boy we led.
To Sir Walter Scott
© Thomas Pringle
From deserts wild and many a pathless wood
Of savage climes where I have wandered long,
The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock
© Thomas Stearns Eliot
Let us go and make our visit.
In the room the women come and go
Talking of Michelangelo.
To Ladies Of A Certain Age
© John Trumbull
Ye ancient Maids, who ne'er must prove
The early joys of youth and love,
Magnitudes
© Howard Nemerov
Earth’s Wrath at our assaults is slow to come
But relentless when it does. It has to do