All Poems
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Should Somebody One Day
© Fernando António Nogueira Pessoa
Should somebody one day knock at your door
Announcing he's an emissary of mine,
Never believe him, nor that it is I;
For to knock does not go with my vainglory,
Even at the unreal door of the sky.
Ad Fabullium. Catul. Lib. I. Ep. 13.
© Richard Lovelace
Caenabis bene, mi Fabulle, apud me
Paucis, si dii tibi favent, diebus;
Si tecum attuleris bonam atque magnam
Caenam, non sine candida puella,
To a Poet
© Claude McKay
There is a lovely noise about your name,
Above the shoutings of the city clear,
More than a moment's merriment, whose claim
Will greater grow with every mellowed year.
Through Agony
© Claude McKay
I All night, through the eternity of night,
Pain was my potion though I could not feel.
Deep in my humbled heart you ground your heel,
Till I was reft of even my inner light,
Knight-Errant
© Madison Julius Cawein
Onward he gallops through enchanted gloom.
The spectres of the forest, dark and dim,
Thirst
© Claude McKay
My spirit wails for water, water now!
My tongue is aching dry, my throat is hot
For water, fresh rain shaken from a bough,
Or dawn dews heavy in some leafy spot.
The Wild Goat
© Claude McKay
O you would clothe me in silken frocks
And house me from the cold,
And bind with bright bands my glossy locks,
And buy me chains of gold;
SongThe Winter it is Past
© Robert Burns
The winter it is past, and the summer comes at last
And the small birds, they sing on evry tree;
Now evry thing is glad, while I am very sad,
Since my true love is parted from me.
The White House
© Claude McKay
Your door is shut against my tightened face,
And I am sharp as steel with discontent;
But I possess the courage and the grace
To bear my anger proudly and unbent.
Idem Latine Redditum
© William Cowper
Heu inimicitias quoties parit æmula forma,
Quam raro pulchrae, pulchra placere potest!
Sed fines ultrà solitos discordia tendit,
Cum flores ipsos bilis et ira movent.
The White City
© Claude McKay
I will not toy with it nor bend an inch.
Deep in the secret chambers of my heart
I muse my life-long hate, and without flinch
I bear it nobly as I live my part.
The Tropics in New York
© Claude McKay
Bananas ripe and green, and ginger-root,
Cocoa in pods and alligator pears,
And tangerines and mangoes and grape fruit,
Fit for the highest prize at parish fairs,
The River
© William Watson
As drones a bee with sultry hum
When all the world with heat lies dumb,
Thou dronest through the drowsèd lea,
To lose thyself and find the sea.
The Tired Worker
© Claude McKay
O whisper, O my soul! The afternoon
Is waning into evening, whisper soft!
Peace, O my rebel heart! for soon the moon
From out its misty veil will swing aloft!
An Autumn Landscape
© Archibald Lampman
No wind there is that either pipes or moans;
The fields are cold and still; the sky
Is covered with a blue-gray sheet
Of motionless cloud; and at my feet
The river, curling softly by,
Whispers and dimples round its quiet gray stones.
The Spanish Needle
© Claude McKay
Lovely dainty Spanish needle
With your yellow flower and white,
Dew bedecked and softly sleeping,
Do you think of me to-night?
Poetry
© Pablo Neruda
And it was at that age… Poetry arrived
in search of me. I don't know, I don't know where
it came from, from winter or a river.
I don't know how or when,
The Plateau
© Claude McKay
It was the silver, heart-enveloping view
Of the mysterious sea-line far away,
Seen only on a gleaming gold-white day,
That made it dear and beautiful to you.
