All Poems

/ page 2026 of 3210 /

Order by :

When a deed is done for Freedom, through the broad earth's aching breast
Runs a thrill of joy prophetic, trembling on from east to west,
And the slave, where'er he cowers, feels the soul within him climb
To the awful verge of manhood, as the energy sublime
Of a century bursts full-blossomed on the thorny stem of Time.

To George Felton Mathew

© John Keats

Sweet are the pleasures that to verse belong,
And doubly sweet a brotherhood in song;
Nor can remembrance, Mathew! bring to view
A fate more pleasing, a delight more true

The Workbox

© Thomas Hardy

See, here's the workbox, little wife,
That I made of polished oak.'
He was a joiner, of village life;
She came of borough folk.

"I have golden shoes"

© Lesbia Harford

I have golden shoes
To make me fleet.
They are like the wind
Underneath my feet.

Sonnet 20: A woman's face with nature's own hand painted

© William Shakespeare

A woman's face with nature's own hand painted,

Hast thou the master mistress of my passion,

The German Hotel

© Charles Bukowski

it's our favorite hotel and if I ever get rich I am
going to buy it and fire the night clerk and there will
be enough ice cubes and corkscrews for everybody.

For Philip Ridgate Esq.

© Thomas Parnell

To friend with fingers quick & limber,

I send this piece of tunefull timber:

To Death

© Jens Baggesen

Death! I have no cause to fear you!
Safe my path through life I tread;
If I'm Here, then I'm not near you,
If you are here, then I am dead.

Para Tus Dedos Agiles y Finos

© Ramon Lopez Velarde

Doy a los cuatro vientos los loores
De tus dedos de clásica finura
Que preparan el pan sin levadura
Para el banquete de nuestros amores.

The Rock-A-By Lady

© Eugene Field

The Rock-a-By Lady from Hushaby street
Comes stealing; comes creeping;
The poppies they hang from her head to her feet,
And each hath a dream that is tiny and fleet -
She bringeth her poppies to you, my sweet,
When she findeth you sleeping!

Esther, A Sonnet Sequence: VI

© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt

The Lyons fair! In truth it was a Heaven
For idlers' eyes, a feast of curious things,
Swings, roundabouts, and shows, the Champions Seven,
Dramas of battles and the deaths of kings,

The Refusal

© Edith Nesbit

MINE is a palace fair to see,
All hung with gold and silver things,
It is more glorious than a king's,
And crownèd queens might envy me.

Translated From A Sonnet Of Ronsard

© John Keats

Nature withheld Cassandra in the skies
For more adornment a full thousand years;
She took their cream of Beauty's fairest dyes,
And shap'd and tinted her above all Peers: