All Poems
/ page 2436 of 3210 /
Sonnet X
© Fernando António Nogueira Pessoa
As to a child, I talked my heart asleep
With empty promise of the coming day,
The Birch-Tree at Loschwitz
© Amy Levy
At Loschwitz above the city
The air is sunny and chill;
The birch-trees and the pine-trees
Grow thick upon the hill.
Dream Song 72: The Elder Presences
© John Berryman
Shh! on a twine hung from disastered trees
Henry is swinging his daughter. They seem drunk.
Over across them look out,
tranquil, the high statues of the wise.
Her feet peep, like a lady's in sleep sunk.
That which this scene's about-
Straw in the Street
© Amy Levy
Straw in the street where I pass to-day
Dulls the sound of the wheels and feet.
'Tis for a failing life they lay
Straw in the street.
To Everlasting Oblivion
© John Marston
THOU mighty gulf, insatiate cormorant,
Deride me not, though I seem petulant
A Humble Appeal
© Jessie Pope
SHE was a pretty, nicely mannered mare,
The children's pet, the master's pride and care,
Until a man in khaki came one day,
Looked at her teeth, and hurried her away.
Sinfonia Eroica
© Amy Levy
(To Sylvia.)
My Love, my Love, it was a day in June,
A mellow, drowsy, golden afternoon;
And all the eager people thronging came
Run to Death
© Amy Levy
A True Incident of Pre-Revolutionary French History.
Now the lovely autumn morning breathes its freshness in earth's face,
In the crowned castle courtyard the blithe horn proclaims the chase;
And the ladies on the terrace smile adieux with rosy lips
Rimas XXI
© Gustavo Adolfo Becquer
?Que es poesia? dices mientras clavas
En mi pupila tu pupila azul;
?Que es poesia? ?Y tu me lo preguntas?
Poesia ... eres tu.
Ralph to Mary
© Amy Levy
Love, you have led me to the strand,
Here, where the stilly, sunset sea,
Ever receding silently,
Lays bare a shining stretch of sand;
Philosophy
© Amy Levy
Ere all the world had grown so drear,
When I was young and you were here,
'Mid summer roses in summer weather,
What pleasant times we've had together!
Tel JEtais Autrefois
© André Marie de Chénier
Tel j'étais autrefois et tel je suis encor.
Quand ma main imprudente a tari mon trésor,
Out of Town
© Amy Levy
Out of town the sky was bright and blue,
Never fog-cloud, lowering, thick, was seen to frown;
Nature dons a garb of gayer hue,
Out of town.
The Borough. Letter XXIII: Prisons
© George Crabbe
'TIS well--that Man to all the varying states
Of good and ill his mind accommodates;
On the Wye in May
© Amy Levy
Now is the perfect moment of the year.
Half naked branches, half a mist of green,
Vivid and delicate the slopes appear;
The cool, soft air is neither fierce nor keen,
On the Threshold
© Amy Levy
O God, my dream! I dreamed that you were dead;
Your mother hung above the couch and wept
Whereon you lay all white, and garlanded
With blooms of waxen whiteness. I had crept
Oh, Is It Love?
© Amy Levy
O is it Love or is it Fame,
This thing for which I sigh?
Or has it then no earthly name
For men to call it by?
