All Poems
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Departing Summer
© George Moses Horton
When auburn Autumn mounts the stage,
And Summer fails her charms to yield,
Bleak nature turns another page,
To light the glories of the field.
To a Clergyman on the Death of His Lady
© Phillis Wheatley
Where contemplation finds her sacred spring,
Where heav'nly music makes the arches ring,
At The Cenotaph
© Siegfried Sassoon
I saw the Prince of Darkness, with his Staff,
Standing bare-headed by the Cenotaph:
Botany Bay Eclogues 04 - John, Samuel & Richard
© Robert Southey
'Tis a calm pleasant evening, the light fades away,
And the Sun going down has done watch for the day.
To my mind we live wonderous well when transported,
It is but to work and we must be supported.
Fill the cann, Dick! success here to Botany Bay!
The Confidant Peasant And The Maladroit Bear
© Guy Wetmore Carryl
A peasant had a docile bear,
A bear of manners pleasant,
And all the love she had to spare
She lavished on the peasant:
She proved her deep affection plainly
(The method was a bit ungainly).
Years
© Sylvia Plath
They enter as animals from the outer
Space of holly where spikes
Are not thoughts I turn on, like a Yogi,
But greenness, darkness so pure
They freeze and are.
Hymn To The Naiads
© Mark Akenside
ARGUMENT. The Nymphs, who preside over springs and rivulets, are addressed at day-break, in honor of their several functions, and of the relations which they bear to the natural and to the moral world. Their origin is deduced from the first allegorical deities, or powers of nature; according to the doctrine of the old mythological poets, concerning the generation of the gods and the rise of things. They are then successively considered, as giving motion to the air and exciting summer-breezes; as nourishing and beautifying the vegetable creation; as contributing to the fullness of navigable rivers, and consequently to the maintenance of commerce; and by that means, to the maritime part of military power. Next is represented their favourable influence upon health, when assisted by rural exercise: which introduces their connection with the art of physic, and the happy effects of mineral medicinal springs. Lastly, they are celebrated for the friendship which the Muses bear them, and for the true inspiration which temperance only can receive: in opposition to the enthusiasm of the more licentious poets.
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The Stevedores
© Wilcox Ella Wheeler
We are the army stevedores, lusty and virile and strong,
We are given the hardest work of the war, and the hours are long.
We handle the heavy boxes, and shovel the dirty coal;
While soldiers and sailors work in the light, we burrow below like a mole.
But somebody has to do this work, or the soldiers could not fight!
And whatever work is given a man, is good if he does it right.
The World In The House
© Jane Taylor
Regions of intellect ! serenely fair,
Hence let us rise, and breathe your purer air.
--There shine the stars ! one intellectual glance
At that bright host,--on yon sublime expanse,
Might prove a cure ;--well, say they, let them shine
With all our hearts,--but let us dress and dine.
The Martyr Poetsdid not tell
© Emily Dickinson
The Martyr Poetsdid not tell
But wrought their Pang in syllable
That when their mortal name be numb
Their mortal fateencourage Some
Sonnet II
© Fernando António Nogueira Pessoa
If that apparent part of life's delight
Our tingled flesh-sense circumscribes were seen
I Continue To Dream
© Langston Hughes
I take my dreams and make of them a bronze vase
and a round fountain with a beautiful statue in its center.
And a song with a broken heart and I ask you:
Do you understand my dreams?
To James Whitcomb Riley With Admiration And Regard
© Madison Julius Cawein
_O lyrist of the lowly and the true,
The song I sought for you
That Shadow, My Likeness
© Walt Whitman
THAT shadow, my likeness, that goes to and fro, seeking a livelihood,
chattering, chaffering;
How often I find myself standing and looking at it where it flits;
How often I question and doubt whether that is really me;
-But in these, and among my lovers, and caroling my songs,
O I never doubt whether that is really me.
The Hero
© John Greenleaf Whittier
"O for a knight like Bayard,
Without reproach or fear;
My light glove on his casque of steel,
My love-knot on his spear!
The Old Apple-Woman
© Christopher Pearse Cranch
A Broadway Lyric
SHE sits by the side of a turbulent stream
That rushes and rolls forever
Up and down like a weary dream
