All Poems

/ page 1920 of 3210 /

Order by :

Kinder the busy worms than ever love;
It will be peace to lie there, empty-eyed,
My bed made secret by the leveling showers,
My breast replenishing the weeds above.
And you will say of me, "Then has she died?
Perhaps I should have sent a spray of flowers."

Mogg Megone - Part III.

© John Greenleaf Whittier

Ah! weary Priest! - with pale hands pressed

On thy throbbing brow of pain,

Wild Bees

© John Clare

These children of the sun which summer brings

As pastoral minstrels in her merry train

Ten Thousand Men A Day

© Wilcox Ella Wheeler

All the world was wearying,

All the world was sad;

A Sailor's Life

© Harry Kemp

Oh, a sailor hasn't much to brag -
An oilskin suit and a dunnage bag.
But, howsoever humble he be,
By the Living God, he has the sea!

The Song Of The Highest Tower

© Arthur Rimbaud

I told myself: wait
And let no one see:
And without the promise
Of true ecstasy.
Let nothing delay
This hiding away.

The Wind

© Robert Louis Stevenson

I saw you toss the kites on high
And blow the birds about the sky;
And all around I heard you pass,
Like ladies' skirts across the grass-
O wind, a-blowing all day long,
O wind, that sings so loud a song!

The Lay of the Last Minstrel: Canto IV.

© Sir Walter Scott

I

Sweet Teviot! on thy silver tide

A Fragment: To Music

© Percy Bysshe Shelley

Silver key of the fountain of tears,
Where the spirit drinks till the brain is wild;
Softest grave of a thousand fears,
Where their mother, Care, like a drowsy child,
Is laid asleep in flowers.

Dead

© William Dean Howells

SOMETHING lies in the room
Over against my own;
The windows are lit with a ghastly bloom
Of candles, burning alone,
Untrimmed, and all aflare
In the ghastly silence there!

The Elfin Artist

© Alfred Noyes

In a glade of an elfin forest

When Sussex was Eden-new,

The Rivals

© James Weldon Johnson

So I said, "Lize, w'en we marry, mus' I weah some sto'-bought clo'es?"
She says, "Jeans is good enough fu' any po' folks, heaben knows!"

Jack Cornstalk as a Lover

© Henry Lawson

For he rides hard to dull the pain,
Who rides from him who loves him best;
But he rides slowly home again,
Whose restless heart must rove for rest.

A Coming Reunion

Jims made good in the world out there, an' Kate has a man that's true,
No better, of course, than she deserves; she's rich, but she's happy, too;
Fred is manager, full-fledged nowhe's boss of a big concern
An' I lose my breath when I think sometimes of the money that he can earn;
Cleverthe word don't mean enough to tell what they really are,
Clever, an' honest an' good an' kindif you doubt me, ask their Ma.

Birds

The fierce musical cries of a couple of sparrowhawks hunting

on the headland,

The Wind Chimes by Shirley Buettner: American Life in Poetry #37 Ted Kooser, U.S. Poet Laureate 2004

© Ted Kooser

Painful separations, through divorce, through death, through alienation, sometimes cause us to focus on the objects around us, often invested with sentiment. Here's Shirley Buettner, having packed up what's left of a relationship.