All Poems
/ page 2381 of 3210 /Composed While The Author Was Engaged In Writing A Tract Occasioned By The Convention Of Cintra
© William Wordsworth
NOT 'mid the world's vain objects that enslave
The free-born Soul--that World whose vaunted skill
In selfish interest perverts the will,
Whose factions lead astray the wise and brave--
Blackberry Eating
© Galway Kinnell
I love to go out in late September
among the fat, overripe, icy, black blackberries
to eat blackberries for breakfast,
the stalks very prickly, a penalty
Ode To Walt Whitman
© Stephen Vincent Benet
"Let me taste all, my flesh and my fat are sweet,
My body hardy as lilac, the strong flower.
I have tasted the calamus; I can taste the nightbane."
After Making Love We Hear Footsteps
© Galway Kinnell
In the half darkness we look at each other
and smile
and touch arms across his little, startling muscled body -
this one whom habit of memory propels to the ground of his making,
sleeper only the mortal sounds can sing awake,
this blessing love gives again into our arms.
War Song
© John Davidson
In anguish we uplift
A new unhallowed song:
The race is to the swift;
The battle to the strong.
Perdita
© Rolf Boldrewood
She is beautiful yet, with her wondrous hair
And eyes that are stormy with fitful light,
The delicate hues of brow and cheek
Are unmarred all, rose-clear and bright;
That matchless frame yet holds at bay
The crouching bloodhounds, Remorse, Decay.
Thirty Bob a Week
© John Davidson
I couldn't touch a stop and turn a screw,
And set the blooming world a-work for me,
Like such as cut their teeth -- I hope, like you --
On the handle of a skeleton gold key;
I cut mine on a leek, which I eat it every week:
I'm a clerk at thirty bob as you can see.
His Ladys Death
© Pierre de Ronsard
Twain that were foes, while Mary lived, are fled;
One laurel-crowned abides in heaven, and one
The Last Rose
© John Davidson
'O WHICH is the last rose?'
A blossom of no name.
At midnight the snow came;
At daybreak a vast rose,
In darkness unfurl'd,
O'er-petall'd the world.
The Chimney - Sweeper
© William Blake
When my mother died I was very young,
And my father sold me while yet my tongue
Could scarcely cry "Weep! weep! weep! weep!"
So your chimneys I sweep, and in soot I sleep.
Song of a Train
© John Davidson
A monster taught
To come to hand
Amain,
As swift as thought
Across the land
The train.
Jack Cornstalk as a Drover
© Henry Lawson
Dry scrub and dusty clearing
The long, hot, drowsy day;
The land line ever nearing
And ever far away.
Song
© John Davidson
THE boat is chafing at our long delay,
And we must leave too soon
The spicy sea-pinks and the inborne spray,
The tawny sands, the moon.
Sonnet. "Say thou not sadly, "never," and "no more,""
© Frances Anne Kemble
Say thou not sadly, "never," and "no more,"
But from thy lips banish those falsest words;
Snow
© John Davidson
'Who affirms that crystals are alive?'
I affirm it, let who will deny:
Crystals are engendered, wax and thrive,
Wane and wither; I have seen them die.
What The Engines Said
© Francis Bret Harte
What was it the Engines said,
Pilots touching,--head to head
Facing on the single track,
Half a world behind each back?
This is what the Engines said,
Unreported and unread.
A Woman
© John Greenleaf Whittier
Oh, dwarfed and wronged, and stained with ill,
Behold! thou art a woman still!
Imagination
© John Davidson
There is a dish to hold the sea,
A brazier to contain the sun,
A compass for the galaxy,
A voice to wake the dead and done!