All Poems
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The Price Of Freedom
© Denis Florence MacCarthy
Man of Ireland, heir of sorrow,
Wronged, insulted, scorned, oppressed,
Whatif
© Sheldon Allan Silverstein
Last night, while I lay thinking here,
some Whatifs crawled inside my ear
and pranced and partied all night long
and sang their same old Whatif song:
The Wide Outdoors
© Edgar Albert Guest
The rich may pay for orchids rare, but, Oh the apple tree
Flings out its blossoms to the world for every eye to see,
And all who sigh for loveliness may walk beneath the sky
And claim a richer beauty than man's gold can ever buy.
Messy Room
© Sheldon Allan Silverstein
Whosever room this is should be ashamed!
His underwear is hanging on the lamp.
His raincoat is there in the overstuffed chair,
And the chair is becoming quite mucky and damp.
Autumnal (With English Translation)
© Rubén Dario
Oh, thirst for the idea! From the height
Of a great mountain forested with night
She showed me all the stars and told their names;
It was a golden garden wherein grows
The fleur-de-lys of heaven, leaved with flames.
And I cried, "More!" and then the dawn arose.
Train Ride
© John Brooks Wheelwright
For Horace GregoryAfter rain, through afterglow, the unfolding fan
of railway landscape sidled onthe pivot
of a larger arc into the green of evening;
I remembered that noon I saw a gradual bud
Evil (Le Mal)
© Arthur Rimbaud
Tandis que les crachats rouges de la mitraille
Sifflent tout le jour par l'infini du ciel bleu ;
Qu'écarlates ou verts, près du Roi qui les raille,
Croulent les bataillons en masse dans le feu ;
Airmen From Overseas
© Robert Laurence Binyon
Who are these that come from the ends of the oceans,
Coming as the swallows come out of the South
In the glory of Spring? They are come among us
With purpose in the eyes, with a smile on the mouth.
Hold Hard The Ancient Minutes
© Dylan Thomas
Hold hard, these ancient minutes in the cuckoo's month,
Under the lank, fourth folly on Glamorgan's hill,
As the green blooms ride upward, to the drive of time;
Time, in a folly's rider, like a county man
Over the vault of ridings with his hound at heel,
Drives forth my men, my children, from the hanging south.
Upon Over-Much Niceness
© John Bunyan
Tis much to see how over nice some are
About the body and household affair,
Thought's Assiduity.
© Robert Crawford
Be not afraid of facts; they must be faced,
And thought must in the affairs of circumstance
Untangle many a knotty point, decide
Grave issues, and so tend life's business that
