All Poems
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Little Girls
© Edgar Albert Guest
He knew that earth would never do, unless a bit of Heaven it had.
Men needed eyes divinely blue to toil by day and still be glad.
A world where only men and boys made merry would in time grow stale,
And so He shared His Heavenly joys that faith in Him should never fail.
He sent us down a thousand charms, He decked our ways with golden curls
And laughing eyes and dimpled arms. He let us have His little girls.
Constancie
© George Herbert
Who is the honest man?
He that doth still and strongly good pursue,
To God, his neighbour, and himself most true:
Whom neither force nor fawning can
Unpinne, or wrench from giving all their due.
Atheism --
© Phillis Wheatley
Muse! Muse! where shall I begin the spacious feild
To tell what curses unbeleif doth yeild?
Italy : 13. Coll'Alto
© Samuel Rogers
"In this neglected mirror (the broad frame
Of massy silver serves to testify
That many a noble matron of the house
Has sat before it) once, alas, was seen
The Soldiers Of The Plough
© Charles Sangster
NO maiden dream, nor fancy theme,
Brown Labour's muse would sing;
The King's Missive
© John Greenleaf Whittier
UNDER the great hill sloping bare
To cove and meadow and Common lot,
Day and Night
© Ho Xuan Huong
Peekaboo we used to play;
my hands covered my face,
your hands covered your face,
incredible, there we were gone.
Pike Country Ballads:Jim Bludso, Of The Prairie Belle
© John Hay
Wall, no! I can't tell whar he lives,
Becase he don't live, you see;
Of The Nature Of Things: Book I - Part 02 - Substance Is Eternal
© Lucretius
This terror, then, this darkness of the mind,
Not sunrise with its flaring spokes of light,
The Rich Man And Lazarus
© John Newton
A Worldling spent each day
In luxury and state;
While a believer lay,
A beggar at his gate:
Think not the Lord's appointments strange,
Death made a great and lasting change.
To Celia
© Sir Charles Sedley
Not, Celia, that I juster am,
Or better than the rest;
For I would change each hour like them
Were not my heart at rest.
Death In A Ball-Room
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
Oh many, many thus have died, alas,
Children, poor things! The grave will have its prey.
Some flowers must still be mown down with the grass,
And in life's wild quadrille the dancers gay
Must trample here and there a weak one in their way.
The Merry Month Of May
© Thomas Dekker
O, the month of May, the merry month of May,
So frolic, so gay, and so green, so green, so green!
O, and then did I unto my true love say,
Sweet Peg, thou shalt be my Summer's Queen.
From Boethius: De Consolatione Philosophiae; Book II. Metre 2.
© Samuel Johnson
Though countless as the grains of sand
That roll at Eurus' loud command;
To A Woman Of Malabar
© Charles Baudelaire
Your feet are as slender as hands, your hips, to me,
wide enough for the sweetest white girls envy:
to the wise artist your body is sweet and dear,
and your great velvet eyes black without peer.
Dead Love
© Mathilde Blind
He stung him mid the roses' purple bloom,
The Rose of roses, yea, a thing so sweet,
Haply to stay blind Change's flying feet,
And stir with pity the unpitying tomb.
Here, take him, cold, cold, heavy and void of breath!
Nor me refuse, O Mother almighty, death.
The Skylark
© Edith Nesbit
"It is the skylark come." For shame!
Robert-a-Cockney is thy name:
Robert-a-Field would surely know
That skylarks, bless them, never go!
The Martyr Poets -- did not tell --
© Emily Dickinson
The Martyr Poets -- did not tell --
But wrought their Pang in syllable --
That when their mortal name be numb --
Their mortal fate -- encourage Some --
Leave Me A Place Underground
© Pablo Neruda
Leave me a place underground, a labyrinth,
where I can go, when I wish to turn,
without eyes, without touch,
in the void, to dumb stone,
or the finger of shadow.
