All Poems
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Ode
© Benjamin Jonson
To the Immortal Memory and Friendship of that Noble Pair, Sir Lucius
Cary and Sir Henry Morison.
Mensis Lacrimarum
© William Watson
March, that comes roaring, maned, with rampant paws,
And bleatingly withdraws;
To ----, With A Rose
© Sidney Lanier
I asked my heart to say
Some word whose worth my love's devoir might pay
Upon my Lady's natal day.
Winifred Waters
© John Daniel Logan
WINIFRED WATERS, when I look on you now,
With the sweet peace of God on your beautiful brow
"Your marvelous pronunciation"
© Osip Emilevich Mandelstam
Your marvelous pronunciation --
The scorching whistle of birds of prey;
Or should I say: a living impression
Of some sort of silken eyelashes.
Sonnet XXIII: Is It Indeed So?
© Elizabeth Barrett Browning
Is it indeed so? If I lay here dead,
Wouldst thou miss any life in losing mine?
My Friend
© Wilcox Ella Wheeler
When first I looked upon the face of Pain
I shrank repelled, as one shrinks from a foe
Who stands with dagger poised, as for a blow.
I was in search of Pleasure and of Gain;
To my honoured Friend Mr. George Sandys
© Henry King
It is, Sir, a confest intrusion here
That I before your labours do appear,
Which no loud Herald need, that may proclaim
Or seek acceptance, but the Authors fame.
The Promise
© Robert Laurence Binyon
What wonder of what hope do you enfold,
Whose eyes are all filled with futurity?
What shape of more than beauty would you mould
With desire's strength out of the dim to--be?
A Friend
© Edgar Albert Guest
A friend is one who stands to share
Your every touch of grief and care.
He comes by chance, but stays by choice;
Your praises he is quick to voice.
Autumn Ill
© Guillaume Apollinaire
Autumn ill and adored
You die when the hurricane blows in the roseries
When it has snowed
In the orchard trees
Cadyow Castle
© Sir Walter Scott
When princely Hamilton's abode
Ennobled Cadyow's Gothic towers,
The song went round, the goblet flow'd,,
And revel sped the laughing hours.
The Old Stockman's Lament
© Henry Lawson
Wrap me up in me stockwhip and blanket,
And bury me deep down below,
Exposed on the cliffs of the heart
© Rainer Maria Rilke
Exposed on the cliffs of the heart. Look, how tiny down there,
look: the last village of words and, higher,
Clare Market
© Eugene Field
In the market of Clare, so cheery the glare
Of the shops and the booths of the tradespeople there;
