All Poems

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In MemoriamRev. J. J. Lyons

© Emma Lazarus

ROSH-HASHANAH, 5638.

The golden harvest-tide is here, the corn

The Sun Says His Prayers

© Vachel Lindsay

"The sun says his prayers," said the fairy,
Or else he would wither and die.
"The sun says his prayers," said the fairy,
"For strength to climb up through the sky.

Over Sir John's Hill

© Dylan Thomas

Over Sir John's hill,

The hawk on fire hangs still;

The Broncho That Would Not Be Broken

© Vachel Lindsay

A little colt broncho, loaned to the farm
To be broken in time without fury or harm,
Yet black crows flew past you, shouting alarm,
Calling "Beware," with lugubrious singing...

A Net to Snare the Moonlight

© Vachel Lindsay

The dew, the rain and moonlight
All prove our Father's mind.
The dew, the rain and moonlight
Descend to bless mankind.

Born of Water

© George MacDonald

Methought I stood among the stars alone,

Watching a grey parched orb which onward flew

The Ghosts of the Buffaloes

© Vachel Lindsay

Last night at black midnight I woke with a cry,
The windows were shaking, there was thunder on high,
The floor was a-tremble, the door was a-jar,
White fires, crimson fires, shone from afar.

The Honeymoon Is Over

© Judith Viorst

The honeymoon is over

And he has left for work

Peace-of-the-Heart, my own for long,
Whose shining hair the May-winds fan,
Making it tangled as they can,
A mystery still, star-shining yet,
Through ancient ages known to me
And now once more reborn with me:

To A Certain Civilian

© Walt Whitman

DID YOU ask dulcet rhymes from me?

Did you seek the civilian's peaceful and languishing rhymes?

How I Walked Alone in the Jungles of Heaven

© Vachel Lindsay

Oh, once I walked in Heaven, all alone
Upon the sacred cliffs above the sky.
God and the angels, and the gleaming saints
Had journeyed out into the stars to die.

The Crisis

© John Greenleaf Whittier

ACROSS the Stony Mountains, o'er the desert's drouth and sand,
The circles of our empire touch the western ocean's strand;
From slumberous Timpanogos, to Gila, wild and free,
Flowing down from Nuevo-Leon to California's sea;

Mae Marsh, Motion Picture Actress

© Vachel Lindsay

The arts are old, old as the stones
From which man carved the sphinx austere.
Deep are the days the old arts bring:
Ten thousand years of yesteryear.

The Guardian Angel

© Edith Nesbit

WHEN my good-nights and prayers are said
And I am safe tucked up in bed,
I know my guardian angel stands
And holds my soul between his hands.

Our Guardian Angels and Their Children

Where a river roars in rapids
And doves in maples fret,
Where peace has decked the pastures
Our guardian angels met.

Separation On The River Kiang

© Ezra Pound

Ko-Jin goes west from Ko-kaku-ro,
The smoke-flowers are blurred over the river.
His lone sail blots the far sky.
And now I see only the river,
The long Kiang, reaching heaven.

Caught in a Net

Upon her breast her hands and hair
Were tangled all together.
The moon of June forbade me not
The golden night time weather
In balmy sighs commanded me
To kiss them like a feather.

hastee apnee Hubaab kee see hai

O Meer! The drowsiness in those dreamy eyes,
Is just like that of wine

Why I Voted the Socialist Ticket

I am unjust, but I can strive for justice.
My life's unkind, but I can vote for kindness.
I, the unloving, say life should be lovely.
I, that am blind, cry out against my blindness.