All Poems
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A New Pilgrimage: Sonnet XI
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
I have it still, a book with pages sewn
Cross--wise in silk, and brimming with these flowers,
Treasures we gathered there, long sere and brown,
The ghosts of childhood's first undoubting hours,
A Clear Day And No Memories
© Wallace Stevens
Today the air is clear of everything.
It has no knowledge except of nothingness
And it flows over us without meanings,
As if none of us had ever been here before
And are not now: in this shallow spectacle,
This invisible activity, this sense.
Sacred To the Memory of Algernon R. G. Stanhope
© Dante Gabriel Rossetti
THE silver cord is loosed, he said,
The golden bowl is broken;
A Dark Day
© Madison Julius Cawein
Though Summer walks the world to-day
With corn-crowned hours for her guard,
Her thoughts have clad themselves in gray,
And wait in Autumn's weedy yard.
The Tame Bird Was In A Cage
© Rabindranath Tagore
THE tame bird was in a cage, the free bird was in the forest.
They met when the time came, it was a decree of fate.
Song
© Rupert Brooke
The way of love was thus.
He was born one winter morn
With hands delicious,
And it was well with us.
Limerick:There was an Old Person of Burton
© Edward Lear
There was an Old Person of Burton,
Whose answers were rather uncertain;
When they said, 'How d'ye do?'
He replied, 'Who are you?'
That distressing Old Person of Burton.
Das Umwechseln
© Gotthold Ephraim Lessing
Der Bruder
Liebe Schwester, wer ist die?
Deine Freundin? darf ich kuessen?
O wie frei, wie schoen ist sie!
Liebe Schwester darf ich kuessen?
Marianne's Dream
© Percy Bysshe Shelley
1.
A pale Dream came to a Lady fair,
And said, A boon, a boon, I pray!
I know the secrets of the air,
The Convivial Book - Ye've Often, For Our Drunkenness,
© Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
Blamed us in ev'ry way,
And, in abuse of drunkenness,
Distant Hills
© John Clare
What is there in those distant hills
My fancy longs to see,
That many a mood of joy instils?
Say what can fancy be?
In The Twilight
© Oliver Wendell Holmes
NOT bed-time yet! The night-winds blow,
The stars are out,--full well we know
Memorials Of A Tour In Scotland, 1803 XIV. Fly, Some Kind Haringer, To Grasmere-Dale
© William Wordsworth
FLY, some kind Harbinger, to Grasmere-dale!
Say that we come, and come by this day's light;
Fly upon swiftest wing round field and height,
But chiefly let one Cottage hear the tale;
The petals tremble
© Matsuo Basho
The petals tremble
on the yellow mountain rose
roar of the rapids
Race Of Veterans
© Walt Whitman
RACE of veterans! Race of victors!
Race of the soil, ready for conflict! race of the conquering march!
(No more credulity's race, abiding-temper'd race
Race henceforth owning no law but the law of itself;
Race of passion and the storm.
Aurora Leigh: Book Eighth
© Elizabeth Barrett Browning
In my ears
The sound of waters. There he stood, my king!
To One Shortly To Die
© Walt Whitman
From all the rest I single out you, having a message for you:
You are to die-Let others tell you what they please, I cannot
prevaricate,
I am exact and merciless, but I love you-There is no escape for you.
Waiting For Breakfast, While She Brushed Her Hair
© Philip Larkin
Waiting for breakfast, while she brushed her hair,
I looked down at the empty hotel yard
