All Poems
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Vision of Columbus Book 3
© Joel Barlow
Now, twice twelve years, the children of the skies
Beheld in peace their growing empire rise;
The Angler
© Dora Sigerson Shorter
'Twas saucy Celia smiled on me,
All banished was her sorrow
"To-day I'll loose the silly fish,
For I shall kill to-morrow."
A Coast View
© Charles Harpur
High mid the shelves of a grey cliff, that yet
Riseth in Babylonian mass above,
The Heart Of Night
© Bliss William Carman
O doubter of the light,
Confused by fear and wrong,
Lean on the heart of night
And let love make thee strong!
Horace: Book II. Ode 9
© Samuel Johnson
Clouds do not always veil the skies,
Nor showers immerse the verdant plain;
Nor do the billows always rise,
Or storms afflict the ruffled main.
Ragnarok
© Kenneth Allott
Our Trojan world is polarised to mourn;
To dream and find a black spot on the sun,
And wake to love and find our lover gone.
Morning At Sea In The Tropics
© George Gordon McCrae
Night waned and wasted, and the fading stars
Died out like lamps that long survived a feast,
And the moon, pale with watching, sank to rest
Behind the cloud-piled ramparts of the main.
At Noey's House
© James Whitcomb Riley
Behind the kitchen, then, with special pride
Noey stirred up a terrapin inside
The rain-barrel where he lived, with three or four
Little mud-turtles of a size not more
In neat circumference than the tiny toy
Dumb-watches worn by every little boy.
L'amour Par Terre
© Paul Verlaine
The wind the other night blew down the Love
That in the dimmest corner of the park
So subtly used to smile, bending his arc,
And sight of whom did us so deeply move
After the Golden Wedding (Three Soliloquies)
© James Kenneth Stephen
She's not a faultless woman; no!
She's not an angel in disguise:
She has her rivals here below:
She's not an unexampled prize:
How Are You Doing? by Rick Snyder: American Life in Poetry #103 Ted Kooser, U.S. Poet Laureate 2004-
© Ted Kooser
One of the ways a poet makes art from his or her experience is through the use of unique, specific and particular detail. This poem by Rick Snyder thrives on such details. It's not just baseball caps, it's Tasmanian Devil caps; it's not just music on the intercom, it's James Taylor. And Snyder's poem also caught my interest with the humor of its flat, sardonic tone.
How Are You Doing?
Dying (I heard a fly buzz when I died)
© Emily Dickinson
With blue, uncertain, stumbling buzz,
Between the light and me;
And then the windows failed, and then
I could not see to see.
My Divine Lysis
© Sor Juana Ines de la Cruz
Divina Lysi mía:
perdona si me atrevo
a llamarte así, cuando
aun de ser tuya el nombre no merezco.
Dream With Clam-Diggers
© Sylvia Plath
This dream budded bright with leaves around the edges,
Its clear air winnowed by angels; she was come
Back to her early sea-town home
Scathed, stained after tedious pilgrimages.
The Book-Worm
© Thomas Parnell
Bring Homer, Virgil, Tasso near,
To pile a sacred Altar here;
Hold, Boy, thy Hand out-run thy Wit,
You reach'd the Plays that D---s writ;
You reach'd me Ph---s rustick Strain;
Pray take your mortal Bards again.
To The Chief Musician Upon Nabla: A Tyndallic Ode
© James Clerk Maxwell
I.
I come from fields of fractured ice,
Limitations Of Benevolence
© Julia Ward Howe
"The beggar boy is none of mine,"
The reverend doctor strangely said;
"I do not walk the streets to pour
Chance benedictions on his head.
Faith
© Edgar Albert Guest
This much I know:
God does not wrong us here,
Though oft His judgments seem severe
And reason falters 'neath the blow,
Some day we'll learn 'twas better so.
