All Poems

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By The Bivouac's Fitful Flame

© Walt Whitman

BY the bivouac's fitful flame,

A procession winding around me, solemn and sweet and slow;-but first

The Poor

© William Carlos Williams

By constantly tormenting them

with reminders of the lice in

Madrigal: My Thoughts Hold Mortal Strife

© William Henry Drummond

My thoughts hold mortal strife,

I do detest my life,

Homer's Hymn To The Sun

© Percy Bysshe Shelley

Offspring of Jove, Calliope, once more
To the bright Sun, thy hymn of music pour;
Whom to the child of star-clad Heaven and Earth
Euryphaessa, large-eyed nymph, brought forth;

The Rhodora: On Being Asked, Whence Is The Flower?

© Ralph Waldo Emerson

In May, when sea-winds pierced our solitudes,

I found the fresh Rhodora in the woods,

Like to some deep-chested organ whose grand inspiration,
Serenely majestic in utterance, lofty and calm,
Interprets to mortals with melody great as its burthen
The mystical harmonies chiming for ever throughout the bright
spheres.

O Delices DAmour!

© André Marie de Chénier

O délices d'amour! et toi, molle paresse,

Vous aurez donc usé mon oisive jeunesse!

The Mother

© Nettie Palmer

IN the sorrow and the terror of the nations,

In a world shaken through by lamentations,

The Wind Of Onset

© Paul Hamilton Hayne

WITH potent north winds rushing swiftly down,
Blended in glorious chant, on yester-night
Old Winter came with locks and beard of white.
The hoarfrost glittering on his ancient crown:

You Alone Exist

© Bulleh Shah

You alone exist; I do not, O Beloved!

You alone exist, I do not!

Sonnet XXI: Say Over Again

© Elizabeth Barrett Browning

Say over again, and yet once over again,

That thou dost love me. Though the word repeated

Songs Set To Music: 24. Set By Mr. C. R.

© Matthew Prior

Cloe beauty has, and wit,
And an air that is not common;
Every charm in her does meet,
Fit to make a handsome woman.

War's Homecoming

© Edgar Albert Guest

We little thought how much they meant--the bleeding hearts of France,
And British mothers wearing black to mark some troop's advance,
The war was, O, so distant then, the grief so far away,
We couldn't see the weeping eyes, nor hear the women pray.
We couldn't sense the weight of woe that rested on that land,
But now our boy is called to go--to-day, we understand.

Maesia's Song

© Robert Greene

SWEET are the thoughts that savor of content;
The quiet mind is richer than a crown;
Sweet are the nights in careless slumber spent;
The poor estate scorns Fortune's angry frown.
Such sweet content, such minds, such sleep, such bliss,
Beggars enjoy, when princes oft do miss.

"One, Two, Three!"

It was an old, old, old, old lady,
And a boy that was half-past three;
And the way that they played together
Was beautiful to see.

To an Insect

I love to hear thine earnest voice,

Wherever thou art hid,

Early Spring

Harshness vanished. A sudden softness
has replaced the meadows' wintry grey.
Little rivulets of water changed
their singing accents. Tendernesses,

The Cross Roads

There was an old man breaking stones
To mend the turnpike way,
He sat him down beside a brook
And out his bread and cheese he took,
For now it was mid-day.

Hellbound Train

© Anonymous

A Texas cowboy lay down on a barroom floor,
Having drunk so much he could drink no more;
So he fell asleep with a troubled brain
To dream that he rode on a hell-bound train.