All Poems
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Aux champs
© Victor Marie Hugo
Je me penche attendri sur les bois et les eaux,
Rêveur, grand-père aussi des fleurs et des oiseaux ;
J'ai la pitié sacrée et profonde des choses ;
J'empêche les enfants de maltraiter les roses ;
You Are My Drunkenness
© Nazim Hikmet
You are my drunkenness...
I did not sober up, as if I can do that;
I don't want to anyway.
I have a headache, my knees are full of scars
I am in mud all around
I struggle to walk towards your hesitant light.
HYMN to CHRIST for our Regeneration and Resurrection.
© Mather Byles
I.
To Thee, my Lord, I lift the Song,
Awake, my tuneful Pow'rs:
In constant Praise my grateful Tongue
Shall fill my foll'wing Hours.
Autumn Song
© Paul Verlaine
With long sobs
the violin-throbs
of autumn wound
my heart with languorous
and montonous
sound.
Requiem
© George Meredith
Where faces are hueless, where eyelids are dewless,
Where passion is silent and hearts never crave;
Where thought hath no theme, and where sleep hath no dream,
In patience and peace thou art gone-to thy grave!
Gone where no warning can wake thee to morning,
Dead tho' a thousand hands stretch'd out to save.
Indian Weavers
© Sarojini Naidu
WEAVERS, weaving at break of day,
Why do you weave a garment so gay? . . .
Blue as the wing of a halcyon wild,
We weave the robes of a new-born child.
For Louis Pasteur
© Edgar Bowers
How shall a generation know its story
If it will know no other? When, among
Epitaphe
© François Coppée
Dans le faubourg qui monte au cimetière,
Passant rêveur, j'ai souvent observé
Les croix de bois et les tombeaux de pierre
Attendant là qu'un nom y fût gravé.
The Mermaid
© Madison Julius Cawein
The moon in the East is glowing;
I sit by the moaning sea;
The mists down the sea are blowing,
Down the sea all dewily.
Tales Of A Wayside Inn : Part 2. The Musician's Tale; The Ballad of Carmilhan - II.
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
The jolly skipper paused awhile,
And then again began;
"There is a Spectre Ship," quoth he,
"A ship of the Dead that sails the sea,
And is called the Carmilhan.
The Golden Legend: II. A Farm In The Odenwald
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
_Elsie._ Here are flowers for you,
But they are not all for you.
Some of them are for the Virgin
And for Saint Cecilia.
When Fishes Set Umbrellas Up
© Christina Georgina Rossetti
When fishes set umbrellas up
If the rain-drops run,
Lizards will want their parasols
To shade them from the sun.
A Simile
© Matthew Prior
Mov'd in the orb, pleas'd with the chimes,
The foolish creature thinks he climbs:
But here or there, turn wood or wire,
He never gets two inches higher.
To Idleness
© Harriet Monroe
Sweet Idleness, you linger at the door
To lead me down through meadows cool with shade
Your Strange Hair
© Renee Vivien
Your strange hair, cold light,
Has pale glows and blond dullness;
Your gaze has the blue of ether and waves;
Your gown has the chill of the breeze and the woods.
Epilogue To 'She Stoops To Conquer'
© Oliver Goldsmith
WELL, having stoop'd to conquer with success,
And gain'd a husband without aid from dress,
On the Death of Mr. Crashaw
© Abraham Cowley
Poet and Saint! to thee alone are given
The two most sacred names of earth and heaven,
