All Poems
/ page 1840 of 3210 /Upon the Infant Martyrs
© Richard Crashaw
To see both blended in one flood,
The mothers’ milk, the children’s blood,
Make me doubt if heaven will gather
Roses hence, or lilies rather.
Dirge
© Kenneth Fearing
And twelve o'clock arrived just once too often,
just the same he wore one gray tweed suit, bought one straw hat, drank one straight Scotch, walked one short step, took one long look, drew one deep breath,
just one too many,
The Rivers
© Felicia Dorothea Hemans
GO! trace th' unnumbered streams, o'er earth
That wind their devious course,
That draw from Alpine heights their birth,
Deep vale, or cavern source.
The Perfect Hat
© William Henry Ogilvie
The Bowler and the Wide-awake,
The Topper and the Straw,
The Homburg and the Helmet
The Ghost of Heaven
© Carolyn Forche
Sleep to sleep through thirty years of night,
a child herself with child,
for whom we searched
At Camelot.
© Robert Crawford
Her maiden eyes were redolent of love,
Warm-bosomed as she breathed the passioned air
Of old romance, and did in fancy move
'Mong the gay knights who died for ladies fair;
Myrrha to the Source
© Heather McHugh
O fluent one, o muscle full of hydrogen,
o stuff of grief, whom the Greeks
accuse of spoiling souls,
Off Rough Point
© Emma Lazarus
We sat at twilight nigh the sea,
The fog hung gray and weird.
Through the thick film uncannily
The broken moon appeared.
In Celebration
© Mark Strand
You sit in a chair, touched by nothing, feeling
the old self become the older self, imagining
The Joy Of The Lord Is Your Strength
© John Newton
Joy is a fruit that will not grow
In nature's barren foil;
All we can boast, till Christ we know,
Is vanity and toil.
Prejudice
© Lizelia Augusta Jenkins Moorer
How strangely blind is prejudice, the Negro's greatest foe!
It never fails to see the wrong but naught of good can know.
'Tis blind to all that's lofty, yea, to truth it is opposed,
Degrading things will ope his eyes, while good will keep them closed.
Sonnet X. To Mrs. G
© Charlotte Turner Smith
AH! why will Mem'ry with officious care
The long lost visions of my days renew?
Why paint the vernal landscape green and fair,
When life's gay dawn was opening to my view?
The Spirit Medium
© William Butler Yeats
POETRY, music, I have loved, and yet
Because of those new dead
That come into my soul and escape
Confusion of the bed,
Or those begotten or unbegotten
Perning in a band,
Song of Myself: 36
© Walt Whitman
Stretchd and still lies the midnight,
Two great hulls motionless on the breast of the darkness,