All Poems
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An Anthem for the Australasian League
© Charles Harpur
SHALL we sing of Loyalty
To the far Souths fiery youth?
When on a Summer's Morn
© William Henry Davies
When on a summer's morn I wake,
And open my two eyes,
Out to the clear, born-singing rills
My bird-like spirit flies.
Interpreted
© Madison Julius Cawein
What magic shall solve us the secret
Of beauty that's born for an hour?
That gleams like the flight of an egret,
Or burns like the scent of a flower,
With death for a dower?
She Saunters By The Swinging Seas
© William Ernest Henley
She sauntered by the swinging seas,
A jewel glittered at her ear,
And, teasing her along, the breeze
Brought many a rounded grace more near.
Truly Great
© William Henry Davies
My walls outside must have some flowers,
My walls within must have some books;
A house that's small; a garden large,
And in it leafy nooks.
Thunderstorms
© William Henry Davies
My mind has thunderstorms,
That brood for heavy hours:
Until they rain me words,
My thoughts are drooping flowers
And sulking, silent birds.
Pluck
© Ethelwyn Wetherald
Thank God for pluckunknown to slaves
The self ne'er of its Self bereft,
Who, when the right arm's shattered, waves
The good flag with the left.
This Night
© William Henry Davies
This night, as I sit here alone,
And brood on what is dead and gone,
The owl that's in this Highgate Wood,
Has found his fellow in my mood;
To every star, as it doth rise -
Oh-o-o! Oh-o-o! he shivering cries.
Sonnet XIV. Composed While Climbing The Left Ascent Of Brockley Coomb, In The County Of Somerset
© Samuel Taylor Coleridge
With many a pause and oft reverted eye
I climb the Coomb's ascent: sweet songsters near
Warble in shade their wild-wood melody:
Far off the unvarying Cuckoo soothes my ear.
The Villain
© William Henry Davies
While joy gave clouds the light of stars,
That beamed wher'er they looked;
And calves and lambs had tottering knees,
Excited, while they sucked;
Sonnet 86: Alas, Whence Come This Change Of Looks?
© Sir Philip Sidney
Alas, whence come this change of looks? If I
Have chang'd desert, let mine own conscience be
A still-felt plague, to self-condemning me:
Let woe gripe on my heart, shame load mine eye.
The Sluggard
© William Henry Davies
A jar of cider and my pipe,
In summer, under shady tree;
A book by one that made his mind
Live by its sweet simplicity:
The New Year
© John Greenleaf Whittier
THE wave is breaking on the shore,
The echo fading from the chime;
Again the shadow moveth o'er
The dial-plate of time!
The Sleepers
© William Henry Davies
As I walked down the waterside
This silent morning, wet and dark;
Before the cocks in farmyards crowed,
Before the dogs began to bark;
Before the hour of five was struck
By old Westminster's mighty clock:
The Scourge of Villainy
© John Marston
In serious jest, and jesting seriousness,
I strive to scourge polluting beastliness;
I invocate no Delian deity,
No sacred offspring of Mnemosyne;
The Rain
© William Henry Davies
I hear leaves drinking rain;
I hear rich leaves on top
Giving the poor beneath
Drop after drop;
'Tis a sweet noise to hear
These green leaves drinking near.
The Dead Moment
© Muriel Stuart
THE world is changed between us, never more
Shall the dawn rise and seek another mate
The Moon
© William Henry Davies
Thy beauty haunts me heart and soul,
Oh, thou fair Moon, so close and bright;
Thy beauty makes me like the child
That cries aloud to own thy light:
The little child that lifts each arm
To press thee to her bosom warm.
My Father He Was A Fisherman
© Marjorie Lowry Christie Pickthall
MY father he was a fisherman,
That wrought at the break o' day,
And hither and thither the long tides ran
I' the long blue bay.
The Mind's Liberty
© William Henry Davies
The mind, with its own eyes and ears,
May for these others have no care;
No matter where this body is,
The mind is free to go elsewhere.
