All Poems

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"I have three loves who are all most dear"

© Lesbia Harford

I have three loves who are all most dear.
Each one has cost me many a tear.
The one who is dead yet lives in me.
I were too poor had I less than three.

An Invocation

© Frances Anne Kemble

Spirit, bright spirit! from thy narrow cell

Answer me! answer me! oh, let me hear

Sonnet 40: Take all my loves, my love, yea take them all

© William Shakespeare

Take all my loves, my love, yea take them all,

What hast thou then more than thou hadst before?

The Mystic Selvagee

© William Schwenck Gilbert

Perhaps already you may know

SIR BLENNERHASSET PORTICO?

The Bond

© Arthur Symons

Beloved, and Stranger to me than my foe,

And nearer to me than my breath, and my peace and my strife,

As they begin to rise again

© Matsuo Basho

As they begin to rise again
Chrysanthemums faintly smell,
After the flooding rain

R. S. S., At Deer Island On The Merrimac

© John Greenleaf Whittier

Make, for he loved thee well, our Merrimac,

From wave and shore a low and long lament

Specimen Of Translation From The Ajax Of Sophocles

© James Clerk Maxwell

O had he first been swept away,

Through air by wild winds tossed,

Moderation In Diet

© Charles Lamb

The drunkard's sin, excess in wine,
Which reason drowns, and health destroys,
As yet no failing is of thine,
Dear Jim; strong drink's not given to boys.

My Christian Name

© Dinah Maria Mulock Craik

MY Christian name, my Christian name,
I never hear it now:
None have the right to utter it,
'T is lost, I scare know how.
My worldly name the world speaks loud;
Thank God for well-earned fame!

For Frank Gardiner

© Owen Suffolk

It is not in a prison drear

Where all around is gloom,

The bird that soars on highest wing

The bird that soars on highest wing
Builds on the ground her lowly nest;
And she that doth most sweetly sing
Sings in the shade when all things rest:
In lark and nightingale we see
What honour hath humility.

Ways Of War

© Lionel Pigot Johnson

A TERRIBLE and splendid trust,

Heartens the host of Innisfail;

Steinli Von Slang

© Charles Godfrey Leland

I.
DER watchman look out from his tower
Ash de Abendgold glimmer grew dim,
Und saw on de road troo de Gauer

The Night Journey

Hands and lit faces eddy to a line;
The dazed last minutes click; the clamour dies.
Beyond the great-swung arc o' the roof, divine,
Night, smoky-scarv'd, with thousand coloured eyes

Lord Of My Life

Didst thou store my days and nights,
my deeds and dreams for the alchemy of thy art,
and string in the chain of thy music my songs of autumn and spring,
and gather the flowers from my mature moments for thy crown?

Bare Boughs

O heart,-that beat the bird's blithe blood,
The blithe bird's strain, and understood
The song it sang to leaf and bud,-
What dost thou in the wood?

Fragment Of An Ode To Maia. Written On May Day 1818

© John Keats

Mother of Hermes! and still youthful Maia!
May I sing to thee
As thou wast hymned on the shores of Baiae?
Or may I woo thee

Song Of Collecting Lotus Seeds

© Bai Juyi

Lotus leaves float on rippling water,

flowers shiver in wind.

'Dichterliebe'

© Gwen Harwood

So hungry-sensitive that he
craves day and night the pap of praise,
he'll ease his gripes or fingerpaint
in heartsblood on a public page.
The ordinary world must be
altered to circumvent his rage.