All Poems

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The Flower-Garden

© Richard Monckton Milnes

O pensive Sister! thy tear--darkened gaze
I understand, whene'er thou look'st upon
The Garden's gilded green and colour'd blaze,
The gay society of flowers and sun.

The Find

© Francis Ledwidge

I took a reed and blew a tune,
And sweet it was and very clear
To be about a little thing
That only few hold dear.

A Summer Mood

© Augusta Davies Webster

BUT wait. Let each by each the days pass by,

One faded and one blown like summer flowers;

Nerves

© Gamaliel Bradford

Nerves are most extraordinary,

Full of useful information,

You, eternal love for child, how did you fall into me,
Like a kind and gentle seed fallen on the desert floor,
That clinged to the other buds, waiting for a long, long while,
Guiding its juices in vain to the currents of the earth?

Savior

© Maya Angelou

Petulant priests, greedy
centurions, and one million
incensed gestures stand
between your love and me.

Be With Those Who Help Your Being

© Mewlana Jalaluddin Rumi

Be with those who help your being.
Don't sit with indifferent people, whose breath
comes cold out of their mouths.
Not these visible forms, your work is deeper.

Eros

© Robert Seymour Bridges

Surely thy body is thy mind,
For in thy face is nought to find,
Only thy soft unchristend smile,
That shadows neither love nor guile,
But shameless will and power immense,
In secret sensuous innocence.

Sonnet 67: "Ah wherefore with infection should he live..."

© William Shakespeare

Ah wherefore with infection should he live,

And with his presence grace impiety,

Yet At the Last

© Rudyard Kipling

Yet at the last, ere our spearmen had found him,

Yet at the last, ere a sword-thrust could save,

The First Bluebirds

© Katharine Lee Bates

THE poor earth was so winter-marred,

Harried by storm so long,

The Angel Of The Doves.

© James Brunton Stephens

THE angels stood in the court of the King,

And into the midst, through the open door,

A Dead Astronomer

© Francis Thompson

Starry amorist, starward gone,
Thou art--what thou didst gaze upon!
Passed through thy golden garden's bars,
Thou seest the Gardener of the Stars.

Seventeenth Sunday After Trinity

© John Keble

Stately thy walls, and holy are the prayers
Which day and night before thine altars rise:
Not statelier, towering o'er her marble stairs,
Flashed Sion's gilded dome to summer skies,
Not holier, while around him angels bowed,
From Aaron's censer steamed the spicy cloud,

Pause

So sick of dreams! the dreams, that stain
The aisle, along which life must pass,
With hues of mystic colored glass,
That fills the windows of the brain.

Of The Nature Of Things: Book V - Part 06 - Origins And Savage Period Of Mankind

© Lucretius

But mortal man

Was then far hardier in the old champaign,

Chorus of Brids

© Aristophanes

YE Children of Man! whose life is a span,

Protracted with sorrow from day to day,

Older Than You

We are younger in years! Yes, that is true;

But in some things we are older than you.

Sonnet

Im sick, for sure: deep darkness holds my heart,
Im bored with the people and the stories,
And dream of treasures of the kingdoms, glories,
And yataghans, all covered with blood.

A Vanished Joy

When I was but a little lad of six and seven and eight,
One joy I knew that has been lost in customs up-to-date,
Then Saturday was baking day and Mother used to make,
The while I stood about and watched, the Sunday pies and cake;
And I was there to have fulfilled a small boy's fondest wish,
The glorious privilege of youth--to scrape the frosting dish!