All Poems
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Joan of Arc
© Dante Gabriel Rossetti
Where spirits go, what man may know?
Yet this may of man be said:
That, when Time is o'er and all hath sufficed,
Shall the world's chief Christ-fire rise to Christ
From the ashes of Joan the Maid.
Leopold, Duke Of Brunswick.
© Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
LEOPOLD, DUKE OF BRUNSWICK.[Written on the occasion of the death, by drowning,
of the Prince.]THOU wert forcibly seized by the hoary lord of the river,--Holding thee, ever he shares with thee his streaming domain,
Calmly sleepest thou near his urn as it silently trickles,Till thou to action art roused, waked by the swift-rolling flood.
Kindly be to the people, as when thou still wert a mortal,Perfecting that as a god, which thou didst fail in, as man. 1785.
Addressed To A Young Man Of Fortune Who Abandoned Himself To An Indolent And Causeless Melancholy
© Samuel Taylor Coleridge
Hence that fantastic wantonness of woe,
O Youth to partial Fortune vainly dear!
To plunder'd Want's half-shelter'd hovel go,
Go, and some hunger-bitten infant hear
A Child
© William Ernest Henley
A child,
Curious and innocent,
Slips from his Nurse, and rejoicing
Loses himself in the Fair.
Anacreon's Grave.
© Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
HERE where the roses blossom, where vines round the laurels are
twining,Where the turtle-dove calls, where the blithe cricket is heard,
Say, whose grave can this be, with life by all the ImmortalsBeauteously planted and deck'd?--Here doth Anacreon sleep
Spring and summer and autumn rejoiced the thrice-happy minstrel,And from the winter this mound kindly hath screen'd him at last. 1789.*
A Plan The Muses Entertained.
© Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
To Psyche the poetic art;
Prosaic-pure her soul remain'd.
No wondrous sounds escaped her lyre
Lines On Seeing Schiller's Skull.
© Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
[This curious imitation of the ternary metre
of Dante was written at the age of 77.]WITHIN a gloomy charnel-house one dayI view'd the countless skulls, so strangely mated,
And of old times I thought, that now were grey.Close pack'd they stand, that once so fiercely hated,
And hardy bones, that to the death contended,Are lying cross'd,--to lie for ever, fated.
To Anactoria, Who Has Forsaken A Once-Loved Girlfriend Of Sappho
© Sappho
Rushing war-hosts, horsemen or foot or galleys
These doth one call, those doth another, fairest
The New Amor.
© Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
AMOR, not the child, the youthful lover of Psyche,
Look'd round Olympus one day, boldly, to triumph inured;
There he espied a goddess, the fairest amongst the immortals,--
Venus Urania she,--straight was his passion inflamed.
Two Sunsets
© Wilcox Ella Wheeler
In the fair morning of his life,
When his pure heart lay in his breast,
Panting, with all that wild unrest
To plunge into the great world's strife
The Exchange.
© Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
That lovingly hastens to fall on my breast.
Then fickleness soon bids it onwards be flowing;
A second draws nigh, its caresses bestowing,--
My Sweetest Lesbia
© Thomas Campion
My sweetest Lesbia, let us live and love,
And though the sager sort our deeds reprove,
Let us not weigh them. Heaven's great lamps do dive
Into their west, and straight again revive,
But soon as once set is our little light,
Then must we sleep one ever-during night.
Proximity.
© Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
Thy coldness puts to flight my joy.
But soon as night and silence round us reign,
I know thee by thy kisses sweet again!
Horace, Book I. Ode XXXVIII. (2)
© William Cowper
Boy! I detest all Persian fopperies,
Fillet-bound garlands are to me disgusting;
The Freebooter,
© Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
No door has my house,No house has my door;
And in and out everI carry my store.No grate has my kitchen,No kitchen my grate;
Yet roasts it and boils itBoth early and late.My bed has no trestles,My trestles no bed;
Yet merrier momentsNo mortal e'er led.My cellar is lofty,My barn is full deep,
The Petition
© James Russell Lowell
Oh, tell me less or tell me more,
Soft eyes with mystery at the core,
That always seem to melt my own
Frankly as pansies fully grown,
Yet waver still 'tween no and yes!
Warning.
© Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
WAKEN not Amor from sleep! The beauteous urchin still slumbers;
Tales Of A Wayside Inn : The Theologian's Tale; The Legend Beautiful
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Straightway to his feet he started,
And with longing look intent
On the Blessed Vision bent,
Slowly from his cell departed,
Slowly on his errand went.
