All Poems

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To Joy

© Sara Teasdale

Lo, I am happy, for my eyes have seen
Joy glowing here before me, face to face;
His wings were arched above me for a space,
I kissed his lips, no bitter came between.

Sonnet XVI. The Spectroscope.

© Christopher Pearse Cranch

ALL honor to that keen Promethean soul
Who caught the prismic hues of Jove and Mars,
And from the glances of the dædal stars,
And from the fiery sun, the secret stole

The Eye

© Allen Tate

I see the horses and the sad streets
Of my childhood in an agate eye
Roving, under the clean sheets,
Over a black hole in the sky.

Impartiality

© James Russell Lowell

I cannot say a scene is fair
Because it is beloved of thee
But I shall love to linger there,
For sake of thy dear memory;
I would not be so coldly just
As to love only what I must.

Homage To Sextus Propertius - II

Orgies of vintages, an earthern image of Silenus
Strengthened with rushes, Tegaean Pan,
The small birds of the Cytharean mother,
their Punic faces dyed in the Gorgon's lake;
Nine girls, from as many countrysides

Arion To A Dolphin, On His Majesty's Passage Into England.

© Katherine Philips

Whom does this stately Navy bring?
O! tis Great Britain's Glorious King,
Convey him then, ye Winds and Seas,
Swift as Desire and calm as Peace.

Sonnet to Peace of Mind

© Helen Maria Williams

Sweet Peace! ah, lead me from the thorny dale,

Where desolate my wand'ring steps have fled;

Who Goes With Fergus?

© William Butler Yeats

WHO will go drive with Fergus now,

And pierce the deep wood's woven shade,

Surprise Party

© Boris Vian

The turntable hacked up a melancholy blues
The air was heavy with dust and odors
Several zazous danced while holding to their hearts
Short girls with spasmodic behinds

An Invocation

© Arthur Symons

Give me your kisses: save me from her tears!

It is the weary sound of them one hears,

At The Stile

© Madison Julius Cawein

Young Harry leapt over the stile and kissed her,
Over the stile the stars a-winking;
He thought it was Mary--'t was Mary's sister--
And love hath a way of thinking.

Natalias Resurrection: Sonnet XXIX

He bore her to his home 'twixt life and death,
By mute connivance of the slumbering streets,
Bore her redeemed to a new world of breath
And peace divine, belike the Paraclete's.

To A Castillan Song

We held the book together timidly,
Whose antique music in an alien tongue
Once rose among the dew-drenched vines that hung
Beneath a high Castilian balcony.

She,

In the dark,

Limerick: There was an Old Man with a Gong

© Edward Lear

There was an Old Man with a gong,
Who bumped at it all day long;
But they called out, 'O law!
You're a horrid old bore!'
So they smashed that Old Man with a gong.