All Poems
/ page 2356 of 3210 /Love Song
© Rainer Maria Rilke
How can I keep my soul in me, so that
it doesn't touch your soul? How can I raise
The Prayer of Miriam Cohen
© Rudyard Kipling
From the wheel and the drift of Things
Deliver us, Good Lord,
And we will face the wrath of Kings,
The faggot and the sword!
The Captain of the Push
© Henry Lawson
As the night was falling slowly down on city, town and bush,
From a slum in Jones's Alley sloped the Captain of the Push;
And he scowled towards the North, and he scowled towards the South,
As he hooked his little finger in the corners of his mouth.
Then his whistle, loud and shrill, woke the echoes of the `Rocks',
And a dozen ghouls came sloping round the corners of the blocks.
The Prairie
© Rudyard Kipling
I see the grass shake in the sun for leagues on either hand,
I see a river loop and run about a treeless land --
An empty plain, a steely pond, a distance diamond-clear,
And low blue naked hills beyond. And what is that to fear?"
The Power of the Dog
© Rudyard Kipling
There is sorrow enough in the natural way
From men and women to fill our day;
And when we are certain of sorrow in store,
Why do we always arrange for more?
Brothers and Sisters, I bid you beware
Of giving your heart to a dog to tear.
The Ages Of Man
© Henry Howard
Laid in my quiet bed, in study as I were,
I saw within my troubled head a heap of thoughts appear,
The Post That Fitted
© Rudyard Kipling
Ere the seamer bore him Eastward, Sleary was engaged to marry
An attractive girl at Tunbridge, whom he called "my little Carrie."
Sleary's pay was very modest; Sleary was the other way.
Who can cook a two-plate dinner on eight poor rupees a day?
My Boat Swings Out And Back
© Robert Laurence Binyon
My boat swings out and back,
Moored among mint and rush.
The river's ruffled speed
Laughs in the white wind's track.
My idle fingers crush
A crinkled, scented reed.
In The Harbour: From The French
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Will ever the dear days come back again,
Those days of June, when lilacs were in bloom,
Possibilities
© Rudyard Kipling
Ay, lay him 'neath the Simla pine --
A fortnight fully to be missed,
Behold, we lose our fourth at whist,
A chair is vacant where we dine.
To His Coy Love
© Michael Drayton
I pray thee leave, love me no more,
Call home the heart you gave me.
Poor Honest Men
© Rudyard Kipling
Your jar of Virginny
Will cost you a guinea,
Which you reckon too much by five shillings or ten;
But light your churchwarden
And judge it according,
When I've told you the troubles of poor honest men.
An Occasional Prologue, Delivered Previous To The Performance Of 'The Wheel Of Fortune' At A Private
© George Gordon Byron
Since the refinement of this polish'd age
Has swept irnmortal raillery from the stage;
Since taste has now expunged licentious wit,
Which stamp'd disgrace on all an author writ;
The Plea of the Simla Dancers
© Rudyard Kipling
Too late, alas! the song
To remedy the wrong; --
The rooms are taken from us, swept and
garnished for their fate.
To James Freeman Clarke
© Oliver Wendell Holmes
I BRING the simplest pledge of love,
Friend of my earlier days;
Mine is the hand without the glove,
The heart-beat, not the phrase.
A Pict Song
© Rudyard Kipling
Rome never looks where she treads.
Always her heavy hooves fall
On our stomachs, our hearts or our heads;
And Rome never heeds when we bawl.
Philadelphia
© Rudyard Kipling
It is gone, gone, gone with lost Atlantis,
(Never say I didn't give you warning).
In Seventeen Ninety-three 'twas there for all to see,
But it's not in Philadelphia this morning.
A Song In October
© Theodor Storm
Clouds gather, treetops toss and sway;
But pour us wine, an old one!
That we may turn this dreary day
To golden; yes, to golden!
The Peace Of Dives
© Rudyard Kipling
The Word came down to Dives in Torment where he lay:
"Our World is full of wickedness, My Children maim and slay,
"And the Saint and Seer and Prophet
"Can make no better of it
"Than to sanctify and prophesy and pray.