All Poems
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The Reason For Work
© Edgar Albert Guest
Some struggle hard for worldly fame,
Some toil to have an honored name,
My Lady April
© Ernest Christopher Dowson
Say, doth she weep for very wantonness?
Or is it that she dimly doth foresee
Across her youth the joys grow less and less
The burden of the days that are to be:
Autumn and withered leaves and vanity,
And winter bringing end in barrenness.
Treinta y Tres
© Ramon Lopez Velarde
La edad del cristo azul se me acongoja
porque Mahoma me sigue tiñendo
verde el espíritu y la carne roja
y los talla, el beduino y a la hurí,
como una esmeralda en un rubí.
Song Of The Spinning Wheel
© William Wordsworth
SWIFTLY turn the murmuring wheel!
Night has brought the welcome hour,
When the weary fingers feel
Help, as if from faery power;
Dewy night o'ershades the ground;
Turn the swift wheel round and round!
Sauve Patria
© Ramon Lopez Velarde
Yo que sólo canté de la exquisita
partitura del íntimo decoro,
alzo hoy la voz a la mitad del foro
a la manera del tenor que imita
la gutural modulación del bajo,
para cortar a la epopeya un gajo.
Der Schlaf
© Gotthold Ephraim Lessing
Ich trinke bis um Mitternacht.
Wenn neben mir der Geizhals wacht,
September Midnight
© Sara Teasdale
Lyric night of the lingering Indian Summer,
Shadowy fields that are scentless but full of singing,
Never a bird, but the passionless chant of insects,
Ceaseless, insistent.
The Drowned Lover
© Percy Bysshe Shelley
I.
Ah! faint are her limbs, and her footstep is weary,
Yet far must the desolate wanderer roam;
Though the tempest is stern, and the mountain is dreary,
"In Petersburg we'll meet again"
© Osip Emilevich Mandelstam
In Petersburg we'll meet again,
As though we'd buried the sun there,
And for the first time utter
The blessed, senseless word.
Song.Oh, had I ne'er beheld thee
© Louisa Stuart Costello
Oh! had I ne'er beheld thee
How calm my life had flown!
As cold, as pure and tranquil
As some fair vale unknown;
Healed Of My Hurt
© Herman Melville
Healed of my hurt, I laud the inhuman Sea-
Yea, bless the Angels Four that there convene;
For healed I am even by the pitiless breath
Distilled in wholesome dew named rosmarine.
The Hyacinth
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
HERE in this wrecked storm-wasted garden-close
The grave of infinite generations fled
Of flowers that now lay lustreless and dead,
As the gray dust of Eden's earliest rose.
Life In Her Creaking Shoes
© William Ernest Henley
Life in her creaking shoes
Goes, and more formal grows,
Sea-Lavender
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
Lavender, sea lavender!
Pale sweet flower how full of her!
Flower discreet, with your priest's eyes
Trained in all time's mysteries,
The Garden Plot
© Jonathan Swift
When Naboth's vineyard look'd so fine,
The king cried out, "Would this were mine!"
And yet no reason could prevail
To bring the owner to a sale.
Daisy
© William Carlos Williams
One turns the thing over
in his hand and looks
at it from the rear: brownedged,
green and pointed scales
armor his yellow.
"No, not the moon..."
© Osip Emilevich Mandelstam
No, not the moon, but simple dial-plate
Is lightning me, and tis my nasty fate,
That lights of stars I feel as light internal!
