All Poems
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The Shepherd's Week : Friday; or, The Dirge
© John Gay
Grubbinol.
Ah Bumkinet! since thou from hence wert gone,
From these sad plains all merriment is flown;
Should I reveal my grief 'twould spoil thy cheer,
And make thine eye o'erflow with many a tear.
Song of Poplars
© Aldous Huxley
Shepherd, to yon tall poplars tune your flute:
Let them pierce, keenly, subtly shrill,
The slow blue rumour of the hill;
Let the grass cry with an anguish of evening gold,
And the great sky be mute.
Panthea
© Oscar Wilde
. NAY, let us walk from fire unto fire,
From passionate pain to deadlier delight,-
I am too young to live without desire,
Too young art thou to waste this summer night
Asking those idle questions which of old
Man sought of seer and oracle, and no reply was told.
Union Of The Blue And Gray
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
THE Blue is marching south once more,
With serried steel and stately tread;
Their martial music pealed before,
Their flag of stars flashed overhead.
An Old Year's Address
© James Whitcomb Riley
"I have twankled the strings of the twinkering rain;
I have burnished the meteor's mail;
The Old Manor House
© Ada Cambridge
An old house, crumbling half away, all barnacled and lichen-grown,
Of saddest, mellowest, softest grey,-with a grand history of its own-
Grand with the work and strife and tears of more than half a thousand years.
Elegy Written At Hotwells, Bristol
© William Lisle Bowles
The morning wakes in shadowy mantle gray,
The darksome woods their glimmering skirts unfold,
Prone from the cliff the falcon wheels her way,
And long and loud the bell's slow chime is tolled.
Old Age. (Sonnet IV.)
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
The course of my long life hath reached at last,
In fragile bark o'er a tempestuous sea,
Edith
© William Ellery Channing
EDITH, the silent stars are coldly gleaming,
The night wind moans, the leafless trees are still.
Edith, there is a life beyond this seeming,
So sleeps the ice-clad lake beneath thy hill.
Serenade
© William Makepeace Thackeray
Now the toils of day are over,
And the sun hath sunk to rest,
Seeking, like a fiery lover,
The bosom of the blushing west
A Model For The Laureate
© William Butler Yeats
ON thrones from China to Peru
All sorts of kings have sat
I Ken Something
© George MacDonald
What gars ye sing sae, birdie,
As gien ye war lord o' the lift?
On breid ye're an unco sma' lairdie,
But in hicht ye've a kingly gift!
Betrayal by Andrea Hollander Budy : American Life in Poetry #261 Ted Kooser, U.S. Poet Laureate 2004
© Ted Kooser
All over this country, marriage counselors and therapists are right now speaking to couples about unspoken things. In this poem, Andrea Hollander Budy, an Arkansas poet, shows us one of those couples, suffering from things done and undone.
After Sunset
© Grace Hazard Conkling
I have an understanding with the hills
At evening when the slanted radiance fills
Chanteys
© Harry Kemp
These are the songs that we sing with crowding feet,
Heaving up the anchor chain,
Or walking down the deck in the wind and sleet
And in the drizzle and rain.
The Violet-Gatherer (From The Danish Of Oehlenslaeger)
© George Borrow
Pale the moon her light was shedding
Oer the landscape far and wide;
Calmly bright, all ills undreading,
Emma wanderd by my side.
Unborn
© John Le Gay Brereton
Eyes that have never seen a mother's face,
Have you no mercy that you stare and stare,
Although I never felt the hope I slew?
Wide eyes, but when I kneel to God for grace,
Your steadfast pity deepens my despair;
The darkness I desire is full of you.
