All Poems
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Sea Dreams
© Alfred Tennyson
`Not fearful; fair,'
Said the good wife, `if every star in heaven
Can make it fair: you do but bear the tide.
Had you ill dreams?'
To Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
© Denis Florence MacCarthy
(Dedication of Calderon's "Chrysanthus and Daria.")
Pensive within the Coliseum's walls
The Mother Mary
© George MacDonald
Mary, to thee the heart was given
For infant hand to hold,
And clasp thus, an eternal heaven,
The great earth in its fold.
An Account Of The Greatest English Poets
© Joseph Addison
Blest Man! whose spotless Life and Charming Lays
Employ'd the Tuneful Prelate in thy Praise:
Blest Man! who now shall be for ever known
In Sprat's successful Labours and thy own.
The Circumcision Of Christ
© John Keble
The year begins with Thee,
And Thou beginn'st with woe,
To let the world of sinners see
That blood for sin must flow.
The Four Princesses At Wilna. A Photograph
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Sweet faces, that from pictured casements lean
As from a castle window, looking down
By The Stream
© Paul Laurence Dunbar
BY the stream I dream in calm delight, and watch as in a glass,
How the clouds like crowds of snowy-hued and white-robed maidens pass,
Jesus, by Whose Grace I Live
© Augustus Montague Toplady
Jesus, by whose grace I live,
From the fear of evil kept,
Thou has lengthen'd my reprieve,
Held in being while I slept.
With the day my heart renew;
Let me wake thy will to do.
The Warning.
© Adelaide Crapsey
JUST now,
Out of the strange
Still dusk . . . as strange, as still . . .
A white moth flew . . . Why am I grown
So cold?
Ode To Peace
© William Cowper
Come, peace of mind, delightful guest!
Return and make thy downy nest
Once more in this sad heart:
Nor riches I, nor power pursue,
Nor hold forbidden joys in view,
We therefore need not part.
The Highland Broach
© William Wordsworth
If to Tradition faith be due,
And echoes from old verse speak true,
Sonnet I
© George Gascoigne
IN haste, post haste, when first my wandering mind
Beheld the glistring Court with gazing eye,
Mist And Rain
© Charles Baudelaire
Late autumns, winters, spring-times steeped in mud,
anaesthetizing seasons! You I praise, and love
for so enveloping my heart and brain
in vaporous shrouds, in sepulchres of rain.
Camping Out by Edwin Grant Burrows: American Life in Poetry #23 Ted Kooser, U.S. Poet Laureate 2004-
© Ted Kooser
In this fine poem about camping by Washington poet E. G. Burrows, vivid memories of the speaker's father, set down one after another, move gracefully toward speculation about how experiences cling to us despite any efforts to put them aside. And then, quite suddenly, the father is gone, forever. But life goes on, the coffee is hot, and the bird that opens the poem is still there at its close, singing for life.
Camping Out
I watched the nesting redstart
when we camped by Lake Winnepesaukee.
The tent pegs pulled out in soft soil.
Rain made pawprints on the canvas.
Amaryllis by Connie Wanek: American Life in Poetry #84 Ted Kooser, U.S. Poet Laureate 2004-2006
© Ted Kooser
Many of this column's readers have watched an amaryllis emerge from its hard bulb to flower. To me they seem unworldly, perhaps a little dangerous, like a wild bird you don't want to get too close to. Here Connie Wanek of Duluth, Minnesota, takes a close and playful look at an amaryllis that looks right back at her.
Amaryllis
A flower needs to be this size
to conceal the winter window,
and this color, the red
of a Fiat with the top down,
to impress us, dull as we've grown.
Saving Love
© Mathilde Blind
Yea, love the Abiding in the Universe
Which was before, and will be after us.
Nor yet for ever hanker and vainly cry
For human love-the beings that change or die;
Die-change-forget: to care so is a curse,
Yet cursed we'll be rather than not care thus.
