All Poems

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The Cathedral

© James Russell Lowell

Far through the memory shines a happy day,

Cloudless of care, down-shod to every sense,

Back To School

© Edgar Albert Guest

It ain' the ringing of the bell

which calls me back to skule once more;

Thou Lingering Star

© Robert Burns

Thou lingering star, with less'ning ray,

That lov'st to greet the early morn,

Wax Job

© Charles Bukowski

man, he said, sitting on the steps
your car sure needs a wash and wax job
I can do it for you for 5 bucks,
I got the wax, I got the rags, I got everything
I need.

Spring

© Dante Gabriel Rossetti

SOFT-LITTERED is the new-year's lambing-fold,

And in the hollowed haystack at its side

Pray for the Dead

© Arthur Wentworth Hamilton Eaton

PRAY for the deadwho bids thee not?
Do all our human loves grow pale,
Or are the old needs all forgot
When men have passed within the veil?

A Rivulet

© Thomas Lovell Beddoes

It is a lovely stream; its wavelets purl

As if they echoed to the fall and rise

The Lamp

© Sara Teasdale

If I can bear your love like a lamp before me,
When I go down the long steep Road of Darkness,
I shall not fear the everlasting shadows,
Nor cry in terror.

A Man Young And Old: IV. The Death Of The Hare

© William Butler Yeats

I have pointed out the yelling pack,
The hare leap to the wood,
And when I pass a compliment
Rejoice as lover should
At the drooping of an eye,
At the mantling of the blood.

On Entering The Sea

© Nizar Qabbani

Love happened at last,

And we entered God's paradise,

To Her Whose Name

© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt

To her whose name,
With its sweet sibilant sound like sudden showers
Splashing the grass and flowers,
Hath set my April heart aflame;

Anacreontic

© William Shenstone

'Twas in a cool Aonian glade,
The wanton Cupid, spent with toil,
Had sought refreshment from the shade,
And stretch'd him on the mossy soil.

I Watch The Ships

© Arthur Wentworth Hamilton Eaton

I WATCH the ships by town and lea

With sails full set glide out to sea,

Italy : 4. The Great St. Bernard

Night was again descending, when my mule,
That all day long had climbed among the clouds,
Higher and higher still, as by a stair
Let down from heaven itself, transporting me,

New-Year's Eve

© Eugene Field

But the spectre stood in that yonder gloom,
And these were the words it spake,
"Tick-tock, tick-tock"--and they seemed to mock
A heart about to break.

Homage To Sextus Propertius - VI

© Ezra Pound

You will follow the bare scarified breast
Nor will you be weary of calling my name, nor too weary
To place the last kiss on my lips
When the Syrian onyx is broken.

The Last Parting

He is not dead. They do not know,
Who pity her, her secret ease,
How he is near her, how they go,
Her hand in his.

78 RPM by Jeff Daniel Marion : American Life in Poetry #265 Ted Kooser, U.S. Poet Laureate 2004-2006

Tell a whiny child that she sounds like a broken record, and she’s likely to say, “What’s a record?” Jeff Daniel Marion, a Tennessee poet, tells us not only what 78 rpm records were, but what they meant to the people who played them, and to those who remember the people who played them.

78 RPM