All Poems
/ page 1873 of 3210 /
Song: How strongly does my passion flow
© Aphra Behn
HOW strongly does my passion flow,
Divided equally twixt two?
Damon had neer subdued my heart,
Had not Alexis took his part;
Nor could Alexis powerful prove,
Without my Damons aid, to gain my love.
Sonnet 73: Love Still A Boy
© Sir Philip Sidney
Love still a boy, and oft a wanton is,
School'd only by his mother's tender eye:
What wonder then if he his lesson miss,
When for so soft a rod dear play he try?
Thoughts Of A Father
© Edgar Albert Guest
We've never seen the Father here, but we have known the Son,
The finest type of manhood since the world was first begun.
And, summing up the works of God, I write with reverent pen,
The greatest is the Son He sent to cheer the lives of men.
The Poet's Possession
© Archibald Lampman
Think not, oh master of the well-tilled field,
This earth is only thine; for after thee,
Elegy XXI. Taking a View of the Country From His Retirement
© William Shenstone
Thus Damon sung-What though unknown to praise,
Umbrageous coverts hide my Muse and me,
Or mid the rural shepherds flow my days?
Amid the rural shepherds, I am free.
The Balloon Of The Mind
© William Butler Yeats
HANDS, do what you're bid:
Bring the balloon of the mind
That bellies and drags in the wind
Into its narrow shed.
To Dr. F. B[eale]; On His Book Of Chesse.
© Richard Lovelace
Sir, how unravell'd is the golden fleece:
Men, that could only fool at FOX AND GEESE,
Fifteen False Propositions Against God - Section XIV
© Jack Spicer
If the diamond ring turns brass
Mama's going to buy you a looking glass
Ni-Chans Dirge For Yen-Oey
© Augusta Davies Webster
SO soon asleep! Now must the coming years
Weep ignorantly their loss they cannot know,
Petropolis
© Osip Emilevich Mandelstam
From a fearful height, a wandering light,
but does a star glitter like this, crying?
Transparent star, wandering light
your brother, Petropolis, is dying.
Pestilence
© Madison Julius Cawein
High on a throne of noisome ooze and heat,
'Mid rotting trees of bayou and lagoon,
Ghastly she sits beneath the skeleton moon,
A tawny horror coiling at her feet--
Fever, whose eyes keep watching, serpent-like,
Until _her_ eyes shall bid him rise and strike.
The Spagnoletto. Act II
© Emma Lazarus
Ball in the Palace of DON JOHN. Dance. DON JOHN and MARIA
together. DON TOMMASO, ANNICCA. LORDS and LADIES, dancing or
promenading.
The Firing-Line
© Henry Lawson
In the dreadful din of a ghastly fight they are shooting, murdering, men;
In the smothering silence of ghastly peace we murder with tongue and pen.
Where is heard the tap of the typewriterwhere the track of reform they mine
Where they stand to the frame or the linotypewe are all in the firingline.
Limerick: There was an Old Person of Mold
© Edward Lear
There was an Old Person of Mold,
Who shrank from sensations of cold,
So he purchased some muffs,
Some furs and some fluffs,
And wrapped himself from the cold.
Woman!
© George Crabbe
Thus in extremes of cold and heat,
Where wandering man may trace his kind;
Wherever grief and want retreat,
In Woman they compassion find;
She makes the female breast her seat,
And dictates mercy to the mind.
The White Doe Of Rylstone, Or, The Fate Of The Nortons - Canto Seventh
© William Wordsworth
"Powers there are
That touch each other to the quick--in modes
Which the gross world no sense hath to perceive,
No soul to dream of."
"It doesnt look like a finger..."
© Hugh Sykes Davies
It doesnt look like a finger it looks like a feather of broken glass
It doesnt look like something to eat it looks like something eaten
