All Poems
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Young Love
© Andrew Marvell
Come little Infant, Love me now,
While thine unsuspected years
Clear thine aged Fathers brow
From cold Jealousie and Fears.
Joy at the Approach of a Beloved
© Theocritus
Everywhere it is spring,
Everywhere are pastures,
And everywhere milkful udders are swelling,
And the lambkins are suckled
On A Drop Of Dew
© Andrew Marvell
See how the Orient Dew,
Shed from the Bosom of the Morn
Into the blowing Roses,
Yet careless of its Mansion new;
The Child Of The Islands - Winter
© Caroline Norton
I.
ERE the Night cometh! On how many graves
Rests, at this hour, their first cold winter's snow!
Wild o'er the earth the sleety tempest raves;
Eyes And Tears
© Andrew Marvell
How wisely Nature did decree,
With the same Eyes to weep and see!
That, having view'd the object vain,
They might be ready to complain.
Sonnet 51: "Thus can my love excuse the slow offence..."
© William Shakespeare
Thus can my love excuse the slow offence,
Of my dull bearer, when from thee I speed,
First Anniversary
© Andrew Marvell
Like the vain curlings of the watery maze,
Which in smooth streams a sinking weight does raise,
So Man, declining always, disappears
In the weak circles of increasing years;
And his short tumults of themselves compose,
While flowing Time above his head does close.
Lines To My Father
© Countee Cullen
The many sow, but only the chosen reap;
Happy the wretched host if Day be brief,
That with the cool oblivion of sleep
A dawnless Night may soothe the smart of grief.
The Garden
© Andrew Marvell
How vainly men themselves amaze
To win the Palm, the Oke, or Bayes;
And their uncessant Labours see
Crown'd from some single Herb or Tree,
A Dialogue Between The Soul And Body
© Andrew Marvell
Soul
O Who shall, from this Dungeon, raise
A Soul inslav'd so many wayes?
With bolts of Bones, that fetter'd stands
Paraphrase Of The First Psalm
© Robert Burns
The man, in life wherever plac'd,
Hath happiness in store,
Who walks not in the wicked's way,
Nor learns their guilty lore!
To His Coy Mistress
© Andrew Marvell
Had we but World enough, and Time,
This coyness Lady were no crime.
We would sit down, and think which way
To walk, and pass our long Loves Day.
The Love Sonnets Of Proteus. Part I: To Manon: VII
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
ON HER VANITY
What are these things thou lovest? Vanity.
To see men turn their heads when thou dost pass;
To be the signboard and the looking--glass
The Definition Of Love
© Andrew Marvell
My love is of a birth as rare
As 'tis for object strange and high:
It was begotten by Despair
Upon Impossibility.
Celebrating A Hunting Expedition
© Confucius
Our chariots were well-built and firm,
Well-matched our steeds, and fleet and strong.
Four, sleek and large, each chariot drew,
And eastward thus we drove along.
Sabbaths, W.I.
© Derek Walcott
those volcanoes like ashen roses, or the incurable sore
of poverty, around whose puckered mouth thin boys are
selling yellow sulphur stone
Written In A Blank Leaf Of Macpherson's Ossian
© William Wordsworth
OFT have I caught, upon a fitful breeze,
Fragments of far-off melodies,
R.t.s.l. (1917-1977)
© Derek Walcott
As for that other thing
which comes when the eyelid is glazed
and the wax gleam
from the unwrinkled forehead
asks no more questions
of the dry mouth,
