All Poems
/ page 2450 of 3210 /
The End Of Summer
© Madison Julius Cawein
Pods the poppies, and slim spires of pods
The hollyhocks; the balsam's pearly bredes
A Plain Life
© William Henry Davies
No idle gold -- since this fine sun, my friend,
Is no mean miser, but doth freely spend.No prescious stones -- since these green mornings show,
Without a charge, their pearls where'er I go.No lifeless books -- since birds with their sweet tongues
Will read aloud to me their happier songs.No painted scenes -- since clouds can change their skies
Side Show
© Arthur Rimbaud
Very sturdy rogues.
Several have exploited your worlds.
With no needs, and in no hurry
to make use of their brilliant faculties
and their knowledge of your conveniences.
A Greeting
© William Henry Davies
Good morning, Life--and all
Things glad and beautiful.
My pockets nothing hold,
But he that owns the gold,
The Sun, is my great friend--
His spending has no end.
There's Nothing Like A Ship At Sea
© Harry Kemp
There's nothing like a ship at sea with all her sails full-spread
And the ocean thundering backward 'neath her mounting figurehead
And the bowsprit plunging starward and the nosing deep again.
"There's nothing like a ship at sea," sing ho, ye sailormen.
A Great Time
© William Henry Davies
Sweet Chance, that led my steps abroad,
Beyond the town, where wild flowers grow --
A rainbow and a cuckoo, Lord,
How rich and great the times are now!
Aechdeacon Barbour
© John Greenleaf Whittier
THROUGH the long hall the shuttered windows shed
A dubious light on every upturned head;
On locks like those of Absalom the fair,
On the bald apex ringed with scanty hair,
A Fleeting Passion
© William Henry Davies
Thou shalt not laugh, thou shalt not romp,
Let's grimly kiss with bated breath;
As quietly and solemnly
As Life when it is kissing Death.
The Song of Callicles
© Matthew Arnold
THROUGH the black, rushing smoke-bursts,
Thick breaks the red flame.
All Etna heaves fiercely
Her forest-clothed frame.
The Vigil Of Venus
© Thomas Parnell
Let those love now, who never lov'd before,
Let those who always lov'd, now love the more.
Song of Callicles, The
© Matthew Arnold
Through the black, rushing smoke-bursts,
Thick breaks the red flame.
All Etna heaves fiercely
Her forest-clothed frame.
On The Christening Of A Friend's Child
© Samuel Taylor Coleridge
This day among the faithful placed,
And fed with fontal manna,
O with maternal title graced
Dear Anna's dearest Anna!--
Cadmus and Harmonia
© Matthew Arnold
Far, far from here,
The Adriatic breaks in a warm bay
Among the green Illyrian hills; and there
The sunshine in the happy glens is fair,
Description of an Author's Bedchamber
© Oliver Goldsmith
WHERE the Red Lion flaring o'er the way,
Invites each passing stranger that can pay;
Mycerinus
© Matthew Arnold
'Not by the justice that my father spurn'd,
Not for the thousands whom my father slew,
Altars unfed and temples overturn'd,
Cold hearts and thankless tongues, where thanks are due;
Fell this dread voice from lips that cannot lie,
Stern sentence of the Powers of Destiny.
Art And Nature
© William Lisle Bowles
THE BRIDGE BETWEEN CLIFTON AND LEIGH WOODS.
Frown ever opposite, the angel cried,
From the Hymn of Empedocles
© Matthew Arnold
IS it so small a thing
To have enjoy'd the sun,
To have lived light in the spring,
To have loved, to have thought, to have done;
To have advanced true friends, and beat down baffling foes;
Bacchanalia
© Matthew Arnold
The evening comes, the fields are still.
The tinkle of the thirsty rill,
Unheard all day, ascends again;
Deserted is the half-mown plain,
The Dead Democrat
© George Essex Evans
Her yoke is heavy to be borne,
Her bitter paths are choked with thorn,
But glorious shines, through mist and haze,
The splendour of her coming days.
Our loftiest tribute shall be then,
He served his fellow-men.
Apollo Musagetes
© Matthew Arnold
Through the black, rushing smoke-bursts,
Thick breaks the red flame;
All Etna heaves fiercely
Her forest-clothed frame.
