All Poems

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The Last Flower

© Alexander Pushkin

Rich the first flower's graces be,
But dearer far the last to me;
My spirit feels renewal sweet,
Of all my dreams hope or desire--
The hours of parting oft inspire
More than the moments when we meet!

In Thankful Remembrance for My Dear Husband's Safe Arrival

© Anne Bradstreet

What shall I render to Thy name
Or how Thy praises speak?
My thanks how shall I testify?
O Lord, Thou know'st I'm weak.

Despondency

© Madison Julius Cawein

Not all the bravery that day puts on

Of gold and azure, ardent or austere,

In Reference to Her Children

© Anne Bradstreet

I had eight birds hatched in one nest,
Four cocks there were, and hens the rest.
I nursed them up with pain and care,
Nor cost, nor labour did I spare,

Faces

© Sara Teasdale

PEOPLE that I meet and pass
In the city's broken roar,
Faces that I lose so soon
And have never found before,

In My Solitary Hours in My Dear Husband his Absence

© Anne Bradstreet

O Lord, Thou hear'st my daily moan
And see'st my dropping tears.
My troubles all are Thee before,
My longings and my fears.

In Honour of that High and Mighty Princess, Queen ELIZABETH

3.1 Here sleeps T H E Queen, this is the royal bed
3.2 O' th' Damask Rose, sprung from the white and red,
3.3 Whose sweet perfume fills the all-filling air,
3.4 This Rose is withered, once so lovely fair:
3.5 On neither tree did grow such Rose before,
3.6 The greater was our gain, our loss the more.

Here Follow Several Occasional Meditations

© Anne Bradstreet

By night when others soundly slept,
And had at once both case and rest,
My waking eyes were open kept
And so to lie I found it best.

Olney Hymn 48: Joy And Peace In Believing

© William Cowper

Sometimes a light surprises

The Christian while he sings;

Epitaphs

© Anne Bradstreet

Her Mother's EpitaphHere lies
A worthy matron of unspotted life,
A loving mother and obedient wife,
A friendly neighbor, pitiful to poor,

Limerick: There was an Old Man of New York

© Edward Lear

There was an Old Man of New York,
Who murdered himself with a fork;
But nobody cried
though he very soon died,-
For that silly Old Man of New York.

Juventus Mundi

© Charles Kingsley

List a tale a fairy sent us

Fresh from dear Mundi Juventus.

Tangerine by Ruth L. Schwartz: American Life in Poetry #54 Ted Kooser, U.S. Poet Laureate 2004-2006

© Ted Kooser

Poet Ruth L. Schwartz writes of the glimpse of possibility, of something sweeter than we already have that comes to us, grows in us. The unrealizable part of it causes bitterness; the other opens outward, the cycle complete. This is both a poem about a tangerine and about more than that.

Tangerine

Before the Birth of One of Her Children

All things within this fading world hath end,
Adversity doth still our joys attend;
No ties so strong, no friends so dear and sweet,
But with death's parting blow are sure to meet.

November

THERE'S a patch of trees at the edge of the field,
And a brown little house that is kept so warm,
And a woman waiting by the hearth
Who still keeps most of a woman's charm.

Vox ultima Crucis

© John Lydgate

Another (II)

As loving hind that (hartless) wants her deer,
Scuds through the woods and fern with hark'ning ear,
Perplext, in every bush and nook doth pry,
Her dearest deer, might answer ear or eye;

Phoebus make haste, the day's too long, be gone,
The silent night's the fittest time for moan;
But stay this once, unto my suit give ear,
And tell my griefs in either hemisphere.