All Poems
/ page 1833 of 3210 /The Trusting Heart
© Dorothy Parker
Oh, I'd been better dying,
Oh, I was slow and sad;
A fool I was, a-crying
About a cruel lad!
The Hunter And His Dying Steed
© Rosanna Eleanor Leprohon
Wo worth the chase. Wo worth the day,
That cost thy life, my gallant grey!Scott
On Stella's Birth-day
© Jonathan Swift
Stella this Day is thirty four,
(We won't dispute a Year or more)
Poems On Life
© Rabindranath Tagore
Life's errors cry for the merciful beauty
that can modulate their isolation into a
harmony with the whole.
Crossroads in the Past
© John Ashbery
That night the wind stirred in the forsythia bushes,
but it was a wrong one, blowing in the wrong direction.
“That’s silly. How can there be a wrong direction?
‘It bloweth where it listeth,’ as you know, just as we do
when we make love or do something else there are no rules for.”
Fragment: Yes! All Is Past
© Percy Bysshe Shelley
'Ah! no, I cannot shed the pitying tear,
This breast is cold, this heart can feel no more--
But I can rest me on thy chilling bier,
Can shriek in horror to the tempest's roar.'
Crocodile Tears
© Kay Ryan
The one sincere
crocodile has
gone dry eyed
for years. Why
bother crying
crocodile tears.
Narcissus
© Rainer Maria Rilke
Encircled by her arms as by a shell,
she hears her being murmur,
while forever he endures
the outrage of his too pure image…
A Bridal Song.
© Robert Crawford
Love that art enlargéd
As the sun!
Shine upon the bride-life
Here begun,
To M.L. Lozinsky
© Osip Emilevich Mandelstam
I feel the undefeated fear,
In presence of the misty heights;
I'm glad that swallows fly here
And I enjoy the belfry's flight!
The Statue
© Ella Higginson
That I might chisel a statue, line on line,
Out of a marble’s chaste severities!
The Human
© George MacDonald
Within each living man there doth reside,
In some unrifled chamber of the heart,
To -- -- --. Ulalume: A Ballad
© Edgar Allan Poe
The skies they were ashen and sober;
The leaves they were crispéd and sere—
Abraham Lincoln Walks at Midnight
© Roald Dahl
(In Springfield, Illinois)
It is portentous, and a thing of state
That here at midnight, in our little town
A mourning figure walks, and will not rest,
Near the old court-house pacing up and down.
On Seeing the Ladies Crux-Easton Walk in the Woods by the Grotto.
© Alexander Pope
Authors the world and their dull brains have traced
To fix the ground where Paradise was placed;
Mind not their learned whims and idle talk;
Here, here's the place where these bright angels walk.
Poem about People
© Robert Pinsky
The jaunty crop-haired graying
Women in grocery stores,
Their clothes boyish and neat,
New mittens or clean sneakers,