All Poems

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I Would I Were A Careless Child

© George Gordon Byron

I would I were a careless child,

Still dwelling in my highland cave,

The Longest Day

© William Wordsworth

Let us quit the leafy arbor,
And the torrent murmuring by;
For the sun is in his harbor,
Weary of the open sky.

Legate, I had the news last night -my cohort ordered home
By ships to Portus Itius and thence by road to Rome.
I've marched the companies aboard, the arms are stowed below:
Now let another take my sword. Command me not to go!

Love And Discipline

© Henry Vaughan

Since in a land not barren still
(Because Thou dost Thy grace distill)
My lot is fallen, blest be Thy will!

Sonnet 93: "So shall I live, supposing thou art true,..."

© William Shakespeare

So shall I live, supposing thou art true,

Like a deceived husband; so love's face

Fatima

© Alfred Tennyson

O LOVE, Love, Love! O withering might!

O sun, that from thy noonday height

Telling The Bees

© Dora Sigerson Shorter

They are coming, the bees, for the time is in blossom;
They are coming, the bees, from the West, South, and East;
They hum "donas Sasan," they hum "Sonas Eireann,
We gather the honey, prepare for the feast."

Creation

© Wilcox Ella Wheeler

The impulse of all love is to create.

God was so full of love, in his embrace

She Shall Not Guess

© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt

Even if I died no sound should tell it her.
Death babbles, but the calm of her dear eyes
In vain would ask, no tell--tale breath should stir
The lips still treasuring a thought unwise.

To The Sinking Sun

© Francis Thompson

How graciously thou wear'st the yoke
Of use that does not fail!
The grasses, like an anchored smoke,
Ride in the bending gale;
This knoll is snowed with blosmy manna,
And fire-dropt as a seraph's mail.

The Little Old Lady In Lavender Silk

© Dorothy Parker

I was seventy-seven, come August,
I shall shortly be losing my bloom;
I've experienced zephyr and raw gust
And (symbolical) flood and simoom.

The Airy Christ

© Stevie Smith

Who is this that comes in splendour, coming from the blazing East?
This is he we had not thought of, this is he the airy Christ.

In the Night

© Stevie Smith

I longed for companionship rather,
But my companions I always wished farther.
And now in the desolate night
I think only of the people i should like to bite.

To A Taube

© Jessie Pope

ABOVE the valley, rich and fair,
On flashing pinions, glittering, gay,
You hover in the upper air,
A bird of prey.

On Lending a Punch-Bowl

This ancient silver bowl of mine, it tells of good old times,
Of joyous days and jolly nights, and merry Christmas times;
They were a free and jovial race, but honest, brave, and true,
Who dipped their ladle in the punch when this old bowl was new.

The Emigrants Address To America

All hail to thee, noble and generous Land!
With thy prairies boundless and wide,
Thy mountains that tower like sentinels grand,
Thy lakes and thy rivers of pride!

To Our Lady Of The Seven Sorrows

Lady of the seven sorrows which are love,

What sacrificial way

An Eastern Ballad

I speak of love that comes to mind:
The moon is faithful, although blind;
She moves in thought she cannot speak.
Perfect care has made her bleak.

Sonnet XVII: I do not love you as if you were brine-rose, topaz

© Pablo Neruda

I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz,
or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off.
I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,
in secret, between the shadow and the soul.