All Poems
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A New Pilgrimage: Sonnet II
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
How shall I ransom me? The world without,
Where once I lived in vain expense and noise,
Say, shall it welcome me in this last rout,
Back to its bosom of forgotten joys?
Winter
© Frances Anne Kemble
I saw him on his throne, far in the north,
Him ye call Winter, picturing him ever
On The Late S. T. Coleridge
© Washington Allston
And thou art gone, most loved, most honoured friend!
No, never more thy gentle voice shall blend
In The Train, And At Versailles
© Dante Gabriel Rossetti
In a dull swiftness we are carried by
With bodies left at sway and shaking knees.
Only Mules
© Katharine Lee Bates
"The submarine was quite within its rights in sinking the cargo of the Armenian,1,422 mules valued at $191,400."
No matter; we are only mules
Between the Poles of the Conscious
© Kabir
BETWEEN the poles of the conscious and the unconscious, there has the mind made a swing:
Thereon hang all beings and all worlds, and that swing never ceases its sway.
Millions of beings are there: the sun and the moon in their courses are there:
Millions of ages pass, and the swing goes on.
All swing! the sky and the earth and the air and the water; and the Lord Himself taking form:
And the sight of this has made Kabîr a servant.
To The Sun God
© Friedrich Hölderlin
Where are you? Drunk, my mind becomes
Twilight after all your ecstasy. For I just saw
How the enrapturing young god,
Tired from his journey,
To a Lady on Her Coming to North-America
© Phillis Wheatley
"Waft me, ye gales, from this malignant shore;
"The Northern milder climes I long to greet,
"There hope that health will my arrival meet."
Soon as she spoke in my ideal view
The winds assented, and the vessel flew.
The Yellow Violet
© William Cullen Bryant
When beechen buds begin to swell,
And woods the blue-bird's warble know,
The yellow violet's modest bell
Peeps from last-year's leaves below.
The Passing Of The Century
© Alfred Austin
How shall we comfort the Dying Year?
Beg him to linger, or bid him go?
Ode VII: To The Right Reverend Benjamin Lord Bishop Of Winchester
© Mark Akenside
I. 1.
For toils which patriots have endur'd,
To Sir Henry Goodyere
© John Donne
WHO makes the last a pattern for next year,
Turns no new leaf, but still the same things reads ;
Seen things he sees again, heard things doth hear,
And makes his life but like a pair of beads.
Sonnets of the Empire: Nelson
© Archibald Thomas Strong
Thy name was lightning, and like lightning ay
Thine onset shivered, far and swift and fell:
Ever thy watchword holds us, and wheneer
The fierce Dawn breaks, and far along the sky
Roars the last battle, yet with us tis well
We keep the touch, thy hand and soul are there.
The Wolf And The Lamb
© Dora Sigerson Shorter
She had hair gold as her father's corn;
She tripped and sung,
The Last Caesar
© Thomas Bailey Aldrich
In the Elysée, and had lost the day
But that around him flocked his birds of prey,
Sharp-beaked, voracious, hungry for the deed.
'Twixt hope and fear beheld great Cæsar hang!
Meanwhile, methinks, a ghostly laughter rang
Through the rotunda of the Invalides.
