All Poems
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The Playmate
© Rudyard Kipling
She is not Folly - that I know.
Her steadfast eyelids tell me so
When, at the hour the lights divide,
She steals as summonsed to my side.
Picture Of An Old Man
© William Lisle Bowles
Old man, I saw thee in thy garden chair
Sitting in silence 'mid the shrubs and trees
"When I Have Borne In Memory"
© William Wordsworth
WHEN I have borne in memory what has tamed
Great Nations, how ennobling thoughts depart
By occasion of the Young Prince his happy birth
© Henry King
At this glad Triumph, when most Poets use
Their quill, I did not bridle up my Muse
For sloth or less devotion. I am one
That can well keep my Holy-dayes at home;
The House Of Dust: Part 03: 10:
© Conrad Aiken
From time to time, lifting his eyes, he sees
The soft blue starlight through the one small window,
The moon above black trees, and clouds, and Venus,
And turns to write . . . The clock, behind ticks softly.
Our Hero
© Frances Ellen Watkins Harper
Onward to her destination,
O'er the stream the Hannah sped,
When a cry of consternation
Smote and chilled our hearts with dread.
Si Soltera Agonizas...
© Ramon Lopez Velarde
Ante la luz de tu alma y de tu tez
fui tan maravillosamente casto
cual si me embalsamara la vejez.
Of My Lady Isabella Playing The Lute
© Edmund Waller
Such moving sounds from such a careless touch,
So unconcerned herself, and we so much!
Absence
© Paul Laurence Dunbar
GOODNIGHT, my love, for I have dreamed of thee,
In walking dreams, until my soul is lost
Love's Own.
© Robert Crawford
Ah, that hair no age can dye
That is golden in Love's eye,
And that face time cannot touch
On which Love has gazed so much.
© Richard Barnfield
Sighing, and sadly sitting by my love,
He asked the cause of my heart's sorrowing,
The Recruit's Ball
© Sydney Thompson Dobell
Ned, boy! your head, boy!
She'll strike you dead, boy!
There she goes at your nose!
Deuce strike you dead, boy!
Quest For God
© Swami Vivekananda
O'ver hill and dale and mountain range,
In temple, church, and mosque,
In Vedas, Bible, Al Koran
I had searched for Thee in vain.
The Return
© Edith Nesbit
Then I beat on the window, and called, and cried.
No one heard me, and none replied.
The golden silence lay warm and deep,
And I wept as the dead, forgotten, weep;
And there was no one to hear or see -
To comfort me, to have pity on me.
Portrait Of A Baby
© Stephen Vincent Benet
He lay within a warm, soft world
Of motion. Colors bloomed and fled,
Mama
© Attila Jozsef
On Mama now my thoughts have dawdled
all of a week. Clothes-basket cradled
creaked on her hip; she'd climb the stairway
up to the drying-attic's airway.
The Faithless Lover
© Bliss William Carman
I
O LIFE, dear Life, in this fair house
Long since did I, it seems to me,
In some mysterious doleful way
Fall out of love with thee.
