All Poems
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The Love Sonnets Of Proteus. Part III: Gods And False Gods: LXXXII
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
HE WOULD LEAD A BETTER LIFE
I am tired of folly, tired of my own ways,
Love is a strife. I do not want to strive.
If I had foes I now would make my peace.
At The Making Of Man
© Bliss William Carman
First all the host of Raphael
In liveries of gold,
Lifted the chorus on whose rhythm
The spinning spheres are rolled,
The Seraphs of the morning calm
Whose hearts are never cold.
The Massacre at Scio
© William Cullen Bryant
Weep not for Scio's children slain;
Their blood, by Turkish falchions shed,
Sends not its cry to Heaven in vain
For vengeance on the murderer's head.
Sleep
© Edward Young
Tired Nature's sweet restorer, balmy sleep, -
He, like the world, his ready visit pays
Where fortune smiles: the wretched he forsakes,
And lights on lids unsullied by a tear.
Out Of Babylon
© Isabel Ecclestone Mackay
THEIR looks for me are bitter,
And bitter is their word
I may not glance behind unseen,
I may not sigh unheard!
"Behold Vale! I Said, When I Shall Con"
© William Wordsworth
"Beloved Vale!" I said, "when I shall con
Those many records of my childish years,
Depression Before Spring
© Wallace Stevens
The hair of my blonde
Is dazzling,
As the spittle of cows
threading the wind.
The Searched Soul
© Dorothy Parker
When I consider, pro and con,
What things my love is built upon -
Retrospect: The Jests Of The Clock
© Robert Graves
He had met hours of the clock he never guessed before-
Dumb, dragging, mirthless hours confused with dreams and fear,
Bone-chilling, hungry hours when the Gods sleep and snore,
Bequeathing earth and heaven to ghosts, and will not hear,
And will not hear man groan chained to the sodden ground,
Rotting alive; in feather beds they slumbered sound.
At Twenty-One
© Madison Julius Cawein
The rosy hills of her high breasts,
Whereon, like misty morning, rests
The Dagger
© Mirabai
The dagger of love has pierced my heart.
I was going to the river to fetch water,
The Grave-Tree
© Bliss William Carman
LET me have a scarlet maple
For the grave-tree at my head,
With the quiet sun behind it,
In the years when I am dead.
The Lover's Fate
© James Thomson
Hard is the fate of him who loves,
Yet dares not tell his trembling pain,
But to the sympathetic groves,
But to the lonely listening plain.
To His Grace The Duke Of Chandos.
© Mary Barber
Were Kings elective, Realms would sue,
Contending to be sway'd by you.
Yet, tho' no regal Throne is thine,
Thou hast no Reason to repine;
Since Heav'n, that gave the Monarch's Heart,
Bestow'd thee far the nobler Part.
The Tree
© Sara Teasdale
OH to be free of myself,
With nothing left to remember,
To have my heart as bare
As a tree in December;
The Blue And Gray
© Eugene Field
The Blue and the Gray collided one day
In the future great town of Missouri,
And if all that we hear is the truth, 'twould appear
That they tackled each other with fury.
Past And Future
© Robert Laurence Binyon
Past is the past! But no, it is not past,
In us, in us, it quickens, wants, aspires;
And on our hearts the unknown dead have cast
The hunger and the thirst of their desires.
Another Reason Why I Don't Keep A Gun In The House
© Billy Collins
The neighbors' dog will not stop barking.
He is barking the same high, rhythmic bark
Crustacean Rejoinder
© Kenneth Slessor
TAKE your great light away, your music end;
I'm off to feed myself as quick as I can.
You're perfectly impossible to comprehend,
I'm such a busy man.
