All Poems

/ page 1966 of 3210 /

Order by :

When Rody came to Ironbark, 'twas fun to watch the girls,
Such sorting out of frills and frocks such pinning up of curls,
there were no 'bob's no 'shingles' then but ringlets floated down,
and the the curling tongs worked overtime, when Rody came to town.

As It Looks To The Boy

© Edgar Albert Guest

His comrades have enlisted, but his mother bids him stay,
His soul is sick with coward shame, his head hangs low to-day,
His eyes no longer sparkle, and his breast is void of pride
And I think that she has lost him though she's kept him at her side.
Oh, I'm sorry for the mother, but I'm sorrier for the lad
Who must look on life forever as a hopeless dream and sad.

November

© Sara Teasdale

The world is tired, the year is old,
The little leaves are glad to die,
The wind goes shivering with cold
Among the rushes dry.

Moderate Men and Moderate Measures

© George Canning

CHORUS.
Gently purging,
Gently purging,
Gently purging Britain's weal.[1]

New Hampshire

© John Greenleaf Whittier

GOD bless New Hampshire! from her granite peaks
Once more the voice of Stark and Langdon speaks.
The long-bound vassal of the exulting South
For very shame her self-forged chain has broken;

Aside

© Karl Shapiro

Mail-day, and over the world in a thousand drag-nets
The bundles of letters are dumped on the docks and beaches,
And all that is dear to the personal conscious reaches
Around us again like filings around iron magnets,
And war stands aside for an hour and looks at our faces
Of total absorption that seem to have lost their places.

The Fearful

© Sylvia Plath

This man makes a pseudonym

And crawls behind it like a worm.

Italy : 47. Monte Cassino

© Samuel Rogers

'What hangs behind that curtain?'--'Wouldst thou learn?
If thou art wise, thou wouldst not. 'Tis by some
Believed to be His master-work, who looked
Beyond the grave, and on the chapel-wall,

The Jailer

© Sylvia Plath

My night sweats grease his breakfast plate.
The same placard of blue fog is wheeled into position
With the same trees and headstones.
Is that all he can come up with,
The rattler of keys?

Jesse James

© Anonymous

Jesse James was a lad who killed many a man.
He robbed the Glendale train.
He stole from the rich and he gave to the poor,
Hed a hand and a heart and a brain.

Gathering Leaves in Grade School by Judith Harris: American Life in Poetry #183 Ted Kooser, U.S. Po

© Ted Kooser

Perhaps you made paper leaves when you were in grade school. I did. But are our memories as richly detailed as these by Washington, D.C. poet, Judith Harris?

Gathering Leaves in Grade School

Romance Of A Youngest Daughter

Who will wed the Dowagers youngest daughter,
The Captain? filled with ale?
He moored his expected boat to a stake in the water
And stumbled on sea-legs into the Hall for mating,
Only to be seduced by her lady-in-waiting,
Round-bosomed, and not so pale.

Earth's Preference

Earth loves her young: a preference manifest:

She prompts them to her fruits and flower-beds;

General Gordon

I.

Victorious through failure! faithful Lord,

Idyll XXXI. Loves

© Theocritus

Ah for this the most accursed, unendurable of ills!
Nigh two months a fevered fancy for a maid my bosom fills.
Fair she is, as other damsels: but for what the simplest swain
Claims from the demurest maiden, I must sue and sue in vain.