All Poems

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The Vow Of Tipperary

© Thomas Osborne Davis

From Carrick streets to Shannon shore,
From Slievenamon to Ballindeary,
From Longford Pass to Gaillte Mór,
Come hear The Vow of Tipperary.

Help for a patriot distressed, a spotless spirit hurt,
Help for an honourable clan sore trampled in the dirt!
From Queenstown Bay to Donegal, O listen to my song,
The honourable gentlemen have suffered grievous wrong.

Stad in die Mis

© Diederik Johannes Opperman

Met gespanne spier
loop ek deur die mis
want om my sluip 'n dier
onder wit duisternis;

The City of Sleep

© Rudyard Kipling

"The Brushwood Boy"--The Day's Work
Over the edge of the purple down,
Where the single lamplight gleams,
Know ye the road to the Merciful Town

Cities and Thrones and Powers

© Rudyard Kipling

Cities and Thrones and Powers,
Stand in Time's eye,
Almost as long as flowers,
Which daily die:

Farewell

© Harry Kemp

Tell them, O Sky-born, when I die
With high romance to wife,
That I went out as I had lived,
Drunk with the joy of life.

Christmas in India

© Rudyard Kipling

Dim dawn behind the tamerisks -- the sky is saffron-yellow --
As the women in the village grind the corn,
And the parrots seek the riverside, each calling to his fellow
That the Day, the staring Easter Day is born.

Morning Lament

© Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

OH thou cruel deadly-lovely maiden,
Tell me what great sin have I committed,
That thou keep'st me to the rack thus fasten'd,
That thou hast thy solemn promise broken?

Cholera Camp

© Rudyard Kipling

We've got the cholerer in camp -- it's worse than forty fights;
We're dyin' in the wilderness the same as Isrulites;
It's before us, an' be'ind us, an' we cannot get away,
An' the doctor's just reported we've ten more to-day!

The Children's Song

© Rudyard Kipling

Puck of Poock's Hills
Land of our Birth, we pledge to thee
Our love and toil in the years to be;
When we are grown and take our place
As men and women with our race.

February. Take ink and weep,

© Boris Pasternak

February. Take ink and weep,
write February as youre sobbing,
while black Spring burns deep
through the slush and throbbing.

A Charm

© Rudyard Kipling

These shall cleanse and purify
Webbed and inward-turning eye;
These shall show thee treasure hid,
Thy familiar fields amid;
And reveal (which is thy need)
Every man a King indeed!

Why Hop Ye So, ye High Hills?

© Theocritus

And Cos, when she beheld him,
Broke forth with jubilant rapture,
And said, touching the infant with fondling hands.

Chapter Headings

© Rudyard Kipling

When the earth was sick and the skies were grey,
And the woods were rotted with rain,
The Dead Man rode through the autumn day
To visit his love again.

Chant-Pagan

Me that 'ave been what I've been --
Me that 'ave gone where I've gone --
Me that 'ave seen what I've seen --
'Ow can I ever take on

The Girl Of Otaheite

Forget? Can I forget the scented breath

Of breezes, sighing of thee, in mine ear;

Certain Maxims Of Hafiz

I.
If It be pleasant to look on, stalled in the packed serai,
Does not the Young Man try Its temper and pace ere he buy?
If She be pleasant to look on, what does the Young Man say?
"Lo! She is pleasant to look on, give Her to me to-day!"

Night in Day by Joseph Stroud : American Life in Poetry #220 Ted Kooser, U.S. Poet Laureate 2004-200

© Ted Kooser

One of the privileges of being U.S. Poet Laureate was to choose two poets each year to receive a $10,000 fellowship, funded by the Witter Bynner Foundation. Joseph Stroud, who lives in California, was one of my choices. This poem is representative of his clear-eyed, imaginative poetry.

Night in Day

Cells

I've a head like a concertina: I've a tongue like a button-stick:
I've a mouth like an old potato, and I'm more than a little sick,
But I've had my fun o' the Corp'ral's Guard: I've made the cinders fly,
And I'm here in the Clink for a thundering drink and blacking the Corporal's eye.