All Poems

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The Months have endsthe Yearsa knot

© Emily Dickinson

The Months have endsthe Yearsa knot
No Power can untie
To stretch a little further
A Skein of Misery

An Inscription For Dog River

© Kenneth Slessor

OUR general was the greatest and bravest of generals.
For his deeds, look around you on this coast
Here is his name cut next to Ashur-Bani-Pal's,
Nebuchadnezzar's and the Roman host;

The Bridge

© Edward Thomas

I have come a long way to-day:
On a strange bridge alone,
Remembering friends, old friends,
I rest, without smile or moan,
As they remember me without smile or moan.

Moon-Drowned

© James Whitcomb Riley

'Twas the height of the fete when we quitted the riot,
And quietly stole to the terrace alone,
Where, pale as the lovers that ever swear by it,
The moon it

London Types: 'Liza

© William Ernest Henley

'Liza's old man's perhaps a little shady,

'Liza's old woman's prone to booze and cring;

There are a thousand ways to cheat and a thousand ways to sin;
There are ways uncounted to lose the game, but there's only one way to win;
And whether you live by the sweat of your brow or in luxury's garb you're
dressed,
You shall stand at last, when your race is run, to be judged by the single
test.

Le Tonneau de la Haine (The Cask of Hate)

© Charles Baudelaire

La Haine est le tonneau des pâles Danaïdes;
La Vengeance éperdue aux bras rouges et forts
À beau précipiter dans ses ténèbres vides
De grands seaux pleins du sang et des larmes des morts,

Too Long, O Spirit Of Storm

© Henry Timrod

Too long, O Spirit of Storm,
Thy lightning sleeps in its sheath!
I am sick to the soul of yon pallid sky,
And the moveless sea beneath.

V: ¿Ves el sol

© Amado Ruiz de Nervo

¿Ves el sol, apagando su luz pura
en las ondas del piélago ambarino?
Así hundió sus fulgores mi ventura
para no renacer en mi camino.

The Cookie Jar

© Edgar Albert Guest

You can rig up a house with all manner of things,
The prayer rugs of sultans and princes and kings;
You can hang on its wall the old tapestries rare
Which some dead Egyptian once treasured with care;
But though costly and gorgeous its furnishings are,
It must have, to be homelike, an old cookie jar.

Little Billee

© William Makepeace Thackeray

There were three sailors of Bristol city
Who took a boat and went to sea.
But first with beef and captain's biscuits
And pickled pork they loaded she.

At Columbine's Grave

© Bliss William Carman

AH, Pierrot,
Where is thy Columbine?
What vandal could untwine
That gay rose-rope of thine,
And spill thy joy like wine,
Poor Pierrot?

On The Decline Of Oracles

© Sylvia Plath

My father kept a vaulted conch
By two bronze bookends of ships in sail,
And as I listened its cold teeth seethed
With voices of that ambiguous sea

The Shepherds Calendar - February - A Thaw

© John Clare

Ploughmen go whistling to their toils
And yoke again the rested plough
And mingling oer the mellow soils
Boys' shouts and whips are noising now

I Don't Know If You're Alive Or Dead

I don't know if you're alive or dead.
Can you on earth be sought,
Or only when the sunsets fade
Be mourned serenely in my thought?

Song

Where, from the eye of day,
The dark and silent river
Pursues through tangled woods a way
O'er which the tall trees quiver;

It was an April morning: fresh and clear

It was an April morning: fresh and clear

The Rivulet, delighting in its strength,

Banshee

He stood there, chained to wall and rack
With trebled steel. 'For God's own sake,
The scared groom croaked to me, 'Stand back!
You never know the chains might break '

Shakespeare

The world of men, unrolled before our sight,
Showed like a map, where stream and waterfall
And village-cradling vale and cloud-capped height
Stand faithfully recorded, great and small;
For Shakespeare was, and at his touch, with light
Impartial as the Sun's, revealed the All.