All Poems
/ page 1894 of 3210 /Jonquil And Fleur-de-lys
© Lord Alfred Douglas
Jonquil was a shepherd lad,
White he was as the curded cream,
Hair like the buttercups he had,
And wet green eyes like a full chalk stream.
Though Narrow Be That Old Mans Cares .
© William Wordsworth
THOUGH narrow be that old Man's cares, and near,
The poor old Man is greater than he seems:
For he hath waking empire, wide as dreams;
An ample sovereignty of eye and ear.
My Father Teaches Me to Dream by Jan Beatty: American Life in Poetry #72 Ted Kooser, U.S. Poet Laure
© Ted Kooser
Those who survived the Great Depression of the 1930s have a tough, no-nonsense take on what work is. If when I was young I'd told my father I was looking for fulfilling work, he would have looked at me as if I'd just arrived from Mars. Here the Pennsylvania poet, Jan Beatty, takes on the voice of her father to illustrate the thinking of a generation of Americans.
A Worn-Out Pencil
© James Whitcomb Riley
Welladay!
Here I lay
You at rest--all worn away,
O my pencil, to the tip
Of our old companionship!
The Poet's New-Year's Gift. To Mrs. (Afterwards Lady) Throckmorton
© William Cowper
Maria! I have every good
For thee wished many a time,
Both sad and in a cheerful mood,
But never yet in rhyme.
By The Riverside
© John Crowe Ransom
A GREAT green spread of meadow land,
(Must rest his weight on an ample base),
The Cliff
© Mikhail Lermontov
By a cliff a golden cloud once lingered;
On his breast it slept, but, rising early,
Off it gently rushed across the pearly
Blue of sky, a tiny thing and winged.
The Smoke Off
© Sheldon Allan Silverstein
In the laid back California town of sunny San Rafael
Lived a girl named Pearly Sweetcake, you probly knew her well.
Shed been stoned fifteen of her eighteen years and the story was widely told
That she could smoke 'em faster than anyone could roll.
I Shall Be Loved As Quiet Things
© Karle Wilson Baker
I shall be loved as quiet things
Are loved-white pigeons in the sun,
Curled yellow leaves that whisper down
One after one;
Armorel
© Marjorie Lowry Christie Pickthall
She shall glide the garden down,
Treading softly, treading slow,
And with silent feet shall go
Past the Mary-lilies white,
Past the pansies, gold and brown,
Grown for her delight.
A Rhymed Lesson (Urania)
© Oliver Wendell Holmes
Are angel faces, silent and serene,
Bent on the conflicts of this little scene,
Whose dream-like efforts, whose unreal strife,
Are but the preludes to a larger life?
Submission
© George Herbert
But that thou art my wisdome, Lord,
And both mine eyes are thine,
My minde would be extreamly stirr'
For missing my designe.
The Introduction
© Anne Kingsmill Finch
Did I, my lines intend for publick view,
How many censures, wou'd their faults persue,
Sonnet 92: "But do thy worst to steal thyself away,..."
© William Shakespeare
But do thy worst to steal thyself away,
For term of life thou art assured mine;
San Francisco [ From The Sea]
© Francis Bret Harte
SERENE, indifferent of Fate,
Thou sittest at the Western Gate;
Further Language From Truthful James
© Francis Bret Harte
Do I sleep? do I dream?
Do I wonder and doubt?
Are things what they seem?
Or is visions about?
Is our civilization a failure?
Or is the Caucasian played out?
When Ragyng Loue With Extreme Payne
© Henry Howard
When ragyng loue with extreme payne
Most cruelly distrains my hart: