All Poems
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The Shepheardes Calender: June
© Edmund Spenser
June: AEgloga Sexta. HOBBINOL & COLIN Cloute.
HOBBINOL.
LO! Collin, here the place, whose pleasaunt syte
From other shades hath weand my wandring mynde.
Since Then
© Madison Julius Cawein
I found myself among the trees
What time the reapers ceased to reap;
And in the sunflower-blooms the bees
Huddled brown heads and went to sleep,
Rocked by the balsam-breathing breeze.
Address To Music
© Felicia Dorothea Hemans
OH thou! whose soft, bewitching lyre,
Can lull the sting of pain to rest;
Oh thou! whose warbling notes inspire,
The pensive muse with visions blest;
Sweet music! let thy melting airs
Enhance my joys, and sooth my cares!
The Plaint Of King Yew's Forsaken Wife
© Confucius
Kind and impartial, nature's laws
No odious difference make.
But providence appears unkind;
Events are often hard.
This man, to principle untrue,
Denies me his regard.
II.--Death
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
THEN whence, O Death! thy dreariness? We know
That every flower the breeze's flattering breath
Wooes to a blush, and love-like murmuring low,
Dies but to multiply its bloom in death:
Uncertain leasedevelops lustre
© Emily Dickinson
Uncertain leasedevelops lustre
On Time
Uncertain Grasp, appreciation
Of Sum
Sonnet 57: "Being your slave what should I do but tend..."
© William Shakespeare
Being your slave what should I do but tend,
Upon the hours, and times of your desire?
Dooryard Roses
© Sara Teasdale
I have come the selfsame path
To the selfsame door,
Years have left the roses there
Burning as before
Words for the Mica Screen
© Wang Wei
Unfold this screen
Against the light,
Show hills and streams
Nature painted.
"Sed Nos Qui Vivimus"
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
How beautiful is life--the physical joy of sense and breathing;
The glory of the world which has found speech and speaks to us;
The robe which summer throws in June round the white bones of winter;
The new birth of each day, itself a life, a world, a sun!
Ode to My Socks
© Pablo Neruda
The moral of my ode is this:
beauty is twice beauty
and what is good is doubly good
when it is a matter of two socks
made of wool in winter.
So Far, So Near
© Christopher Pearse Cranch
THOU so far, we grope to grasp thee
Thou, so near, we cannot clasp thee
Thou, so wise, our prayers grow heedless
Thou, so loving, they are needless!
Training
© Wilfred Owen
Not this week nor this month dare I lie down
In languour under lime trees or smooth smile.
Love must not kiss my face pale that is brown.
A Portrait
© Dorothy Parker
You do not know how heavy a heart it is
That hangs about my neck- a clumsy stone
Cut with a birth, a death, a bridal-day.
Each time I love, I find it still my own,
Who take it, now to that lad, now to this,
Seeking to give the wretched thing away.
In The Garden VI: A Peach
© Edward Dowden
IF any sense in mortal dust remains
When mine has been refin'd from flower to flower,
I Met a Lady in the Wood
© Patrick Barrington
I met a lady in the wood.
No mortal maid, I knew, was she;
She was no thing of flesh and blood,
No child of human ancestry.
A Wreath Of Sonnets (3/14)
© France Preseren
Since from my heart's deep roots have sprung these lays,
A heart not to be silenced any more;
Now I am like to Tasso who of yore
Would sing his Leonora's fame and praise.
Old Memory
© William Butler Yeats
O THOUGHT, fly to her when the end of day
Awakens an old memory, and say,
