All Poems

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The Everlasting Mercy

© John Masefield

Thy place is biggyd above the sterrys cleer,
Noon erthely paleys wrouhte in so statly wyse,
Com on my freend, my brothir moost enteer,
For the I offryd my blood in sacrifise.
John Lydgate.

Death In Life

© Madison Julius Cawein

Within my veins it beats
And burns within my brain;
For when the year is sad and sear
I dream the dream again.

Roadways

© John Masefield

ONE road leads to London,
One road leads to Wales,
My road leads me seawards
To the white dipping sails.

The Young Laird and Edinburgh Katy

© Allan Ramsay

Now wat ye wha I met yestreen

Coming down the street, my Jo,

On Growing Old

© John Masefield

Be with me, Beauty, for the fire is dying;
My dog and I are old, too old for roving.
Man, whose young passion sets the spindrift flying,
Is soon too lame to march, too cold for loving.

Sibylline

© Madison Julius Cawein

THERE is a glory in the apple boughs

Of silver moonlight; like a torch of myrrh,

We were schooner-rigged and rakish,
with a long and lissome hull,
And we flew the pretty colours of the crossbones and the skull;
We'd a big black Jolly Roger flapping grimly at the fore,
And we sailed the Spanish Water in the happy days of yore.

Second Sunday After Trinity

© John Keble

The clouds that wrap the setting sun

When Autumn's softest gleams are ending,

A Footnote to a Famous Lyric

© Louise Imogen Guiney

TRUE loves own talisman, which here
Shakespeare and Sidney failed to teach,
A steel-and-velvet Cavalier
Gave to our Saxon speech:

Tears

© Walt Whitman

O shade, so sedate and decorous by day, with calm countenance and
regulated pace;
But away, at night, as you fly, none looking-O then the unloosen'd
ocean,
Of tears! tears! tears!

The West Wind

© John Masefield

IT'S a warm wind, the west wind, full of birds' cries;
I never hear the west wind but tears are in my eyes.
For it comes from the west lands, the old brown hills.
And April's in the west wind, and daffodils.

Cargoes

© John Masefield

QUINQUIREME of Nineveh from distant Ophir,
Rowing home to haven in sunny Palestine,
With a cargo of ivory,
And apes and peacocks,
Sandalwood, cedarwood, and sweet white wine.

A Rose Has Thorns As Well As Honey

© Christina Georgina Rossetti

A rose has thorns as well as honey,

I'll not have her for love or money;

Sea Fever

© John Masefield

I must go down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky,
And all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by,
And the wheel's kick and the wind's song and the white sail's shaking,
And a gray mist on the sea's face, and a gray dawn breaking.

Opifex

As I was carving images from clouds,
And tinting them with soft ethereal dyes
Pressed from the pulp of dreams, one comes, and cries:--
"Forbear!" and all my heaven with gloom enshrouds.

Mt. Lykaion

Alone on Lykaion since man hath been

Stand on the height two columns, where at rest

Risus Dei

Methinks in Him there dwells alway
A sea of laughter very deep,
Where the leviathans leap,
And little children play,

Maundy Thursday

© Wilfred Owen

Between the brown hands of a server-lad

The silver cross was offered to be kissed.

Praise (III)

Lord, I will mean and speak thy praise,
Thy praise alone.
My busie heart shall spin it all my dayes:
And when it stops for want of store,
Then will I wring it with a sigh or grone,
That thou mayst yet have more.