All Poems
/ page 2153 of 3210 /
April.
© Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
TELL me, eyes, what 'tis ye're seeking;For ye're saying something sweet,Fit the ravish'd ear to greet,
Eloquently, softly speaking.Yet I see now why ye're roving;For behind those eyes so bright,To itself abandon'd quite,
Lies a bosom, truthful, loving,--One that it must fill with pleasure'Mongst so many, dull and blind,One true look at length to find,
That its worth can rightly treasure.Whilst I'm lost in studying everTo explain these cyphers duly,--To unravel my looks truly
"Emmie, Emmie Adams"
© Lesbia Harford
Emmie, Emmie Adams,
With her insolent air,
Tied a little bit of rag
In her yellow hair.
Ballad Of The Banished And Returning Count.
© Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
[Goethe began to write an opera called Lowenstuhl,
founded upon the old tradition which forms the subject of this Ballad,
but he never carried out his design.]
"How Long I Sailed . . ."
© Hartley Coleridge
HOW long I sailed, and never took a thought
To what port I was bound! Secure as sleep,
I Am a Victim of Telephone
© Allen Ginsberg
When I lie down to sleep dream the Wishing Well it rings
"Have you a new play for the broken down theater?"
To Originals.
© Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
In these numbers be express'd
Meaning deep, 'neath merry jest.
-----
'Knocking Around'
© Henry Lawson
WEARY old wife, with the bucket and cow,
Hows your son Jack? and where is he now?
Haggard old eyes that turn to the west
Boys will be boys, and hes gone with the rest!
Grief without tears and grief without sound;
Somewhere up-country hes knocking around.
After-sensations.
© Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
WHEN the vine again is blowing,Then the wine moves in the cask;
When the rose again is glowing,Wherefore should I feel oppress'd?Down my cheeks run tears all-burning,If I do, or leave my task;
I but feel a speechless yearning,That pervades my inmost breast.But at length I see the reason,When the question I would ask:
'Twas in such a beauteous season,Doris glowed to make me blest!1797.
A Halt
© Zbigniew Herbert
We halted in a town the host
ordered the table to be moved to the garden the first star
The Beauteous Flower.
© Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
Were I not prison'd here.
My sorrow sore oppresses me,
For when I was at liberty,
Krishna Returning With The Herd
© Sant Surdas
Mohan comes herding the cows,
crown of peacock feathers on his head,
Such, Such Is He Who Pleaseth Me.
© Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
In the wood where thou thy flight didst wing.
Fly, dearest, fly! He is not nigh!
Never rests the foot of evil spy.
A Southern Girl
© Madison Julius Cawein
Serious but smiling, stately and serene,
And dreamier than a flower;
A girl in whom all sympathies convene
As perfumes in a bower;
Through whom one feels what soul and heart may mean,
And their resistless power.
Threatening Signs.
© Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
IF Venus in the evening sky
Is seen in radiant majesty,
If rod-like comets, red as blood,
Are 'mongst the constellations view'd,
To A Golden Heart That He Wore Round His Neck.
© Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
[Addressed, during the Swiss tour already mentioned,
to a present Lily had given him, during the time of their happy
connection, which was then about to be terminated for ever.]
The Orphan Boy's Tale
© Amelia Opie
Stay, lady, stay, for mercy's sake,
And hear a helpless orphan's tale,
Ah! sure my looks must pity wake,
'Tis want that makes my cheek so pale.
The Critic.
© Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
I HAD a fellow as my guest,
Not knowing he was such a pest,
And gave him just my usual fare;
He ate his fill of what was there,
Cat-pie.
© Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
WHILE he is mark'd by vision clearWho fathoms Nature's treasures,
The man may follow, void of fear,Who her proportions measures.Though for one mortal, it is true,These trades may both be fitted,
Yet, that the things themselves are twoMust always be admitted.Once on a time there lived a cookWhose skill was past disputing,
Who in his head a fancy tookTo try his luck at shooting.So, gun in hand, he sought a spotWhere stores of game were breeding,
