All Poems

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Amor Vincit Omnia

© Edgar Bowers

Love is no more.
It died as the mind dies: the pure desire
Relinquishing the blissful form it wore,
The ample joy and clarity expire.

Dregs

© Ernest Christopher Dowson

The fire is out, and spent the warmth thereof,
(This is the end of every song man sings!)
The golden wine is drunk, the dregs remain,
Bitter as wormwood and as salt as pain;

To Mr. Blanchard, the Celebrated Aeronaut in America

© Philip Morin Freneau

Nil mortalibus ardui est
Caelum ipsum petimus stultitia
Horace

LIST to an Arab parable, wherein
The beauty of the Orient fancy shrines
A star-like truth, the iconoclastic West
Is blind to see, its shrewd material vision
Bent over on the foulest soils of earth,
If only gold may gild them! Hear and learn!

On the Ruins of a Country Inn

© Philip Morin Freneau

WHERE now these mingled ruins lie
A temple once to Bacchus rose,
Beneath whose roof, aspiring high,
Full many a guest forgot his woes.

The Black Berrywears a Thorn in his side

© Emily Dickinson

The Black Berrywears a Thorn in his side
But no Man heard Him cry
He offers His Berry, just the same
To Partridgeand to Boy

Song of Thyrsis

© Philip Morin Freneau

THE turtle on yon withered bough,
That lately mourned her murdered mate,
Has found another comrade now--
Such changes all await!

The Cricket

© William Cowper

Little inmate, full of mirth,

Chirping on my kitchen hearth,

The Vernal Age

© Philip Morin Freneau

WHERE the pheasant roosts at night,
Lonely, drowsy, out of sight,
Where the evening breezes sigh
Solitary, there stray I.

The Rebel's Surrender To Grace (Lord, What Wilt Thou Have Me to Do?)

© John Newton

Lord, thou hast won, at length I yield,
My heart, by mighty grace compelled,
Surrenders all to thee;
Against thy terrors long I strove,
But who can stand against thy love?
Love conquers even me.

To A New England Poet

© Philip Morin Freneau

Though skilled in Latin and in Greek,
And earning fifty cents a week,
Such knowledge, and the income, too,
Should teach you better what to do:
The meanest drudges, kept in pay,
Can pocket fifty cents a day.

Female Author

© Sylvia Plath

All day she plays at chess with the bones of the world:
Favored (while suddenly the rains begin
Beyond the window) she lies on cushions curled
And nibbles an occasional bonbon of sin.

The Republican Genius of Europe

© Philip Morin Freneau

Emporers and kings! in vain you strive
Your torments to conceal--
The age is come that shakes your thrones,
Tramples in dust despotic crowns,
And bids the sceptre fail.

On the Universality and Other Attributes of the God of Nature

© Philip Morin Freneau

ALL that we see, about, abroad,
What is it all, but nature's God?
In meaner works discovered here
No less than in the starry sphere.

Sonnets of the Empire: Hawk

Great sea dog, fighter in the great old way!

What though thy ships were tinder, and the pest

Ode

GOD save the Rights of Man!
Give us a heart to scan
Blessings so dear:
Let them be spread around

Up And Down The Lanes Of Love

UP and down the lanes of love,

With the bright blue skies above,

To the Memory of the Brave Americans

AT Eutaw Springs the valiant died;
Their limbs with dust are covered o'er--
Weep on, ye springs, your tearful tide;
How many heroes are no more!

Memory of France

© Paul Celan

Together with me recall: the sky of Paris,
that giant autumn crocus...
We went shopping for hearts at the flower girl's booth:
they were blue and they opened up in the water.