All Poems
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Isolation: To Marguerite
© Matthew Arnold
We were apart; yet, day by day,
I bade my heart more constant be.
I bade it keep the world away,
And grow a home for only thee;
Nor fear'd but thy love likewise grew,
Like mine, each day, more tried, more true.
To A Picture Of Eleonora Duse With The Greek Fire, In "Francesca da Rimini"
© Sara Teasdale
Francesca's life that was a limpid flame
Agleam against the shimmer of a sword,
Which falling, quenched the flame in blood outpoured
To free the house of Rimino from shame
The Scholar Gypsy
© Matthew Arnold
But, 'mid their drink and clatter, he would fly.
And I myself seem half to know thy looks,
And put the shepherds, wanderer! on thy trace;
And boys who in lone wheatfields scare the rooks
I ask if thou hast passed their quiet place;
Growing Old
© Matthew Arnold
What is it to grow old?
Is it to lose the glory of the form,
The lustre of the eye?
Is it for beauty to forego her wreath?
Yes, but not for this alone.
Helen In Hollywood
© Judy Grahn
She writes in red red lipstick
on the window of her body,
long for me, oh need me!
Parts her lips like a lotus.
Monte Carlo Memories
© Anastasia Clark
We took turns
Watching seagulls thereWalking on
A tilted shoreOf ancient waves
And modern shipsSparkling in a
Jigsaw Puzzles and You
© Anastasia Clark
There were long hyphens in our day-
When no one spoke; no one exhaledAs we contemplated the broken puzzles-
The broken tiles all over the floorSome might have called us mad-
Insane- in this ceramic nightmareOf yoga knees and bloody feet-
Private Ground
© Sylvia Plath
First frost, and I walk among the rose-fruit, the marble toes
Of the Greek beauties you brought
Off Europe's relic heap
To sweeten your neck of the New York woods.
Soon each white lady will be boarded up
Against the crackling climate.
Uhland's
© Eugene Field
There were three cavaliers that went over the Rhine,
And gayly they called to the hostess for wine.
"And where is thy daughter? We would she were here,--
Go fetch us that maiden to gladden our cheer!"
The Song-God.
© Robert Crawford
The Song-god helps me mightily, and runs
Before life's purpose like a primal power,
Spirit in sense of all that I am still;
Whose flame burns in the heart, consuming there
Yvytot
© Eugene Field
Where wail the waters in their flaw
A spectre wanders to and fro,
And evermore that ghostly shore
Bemoans the heir of Yvytot.
Wynken, Blynken, and Nod
© Eugene Field
Wynken, Blynken, and Nod one night
Sailed off in a wooden shoe,--
Sailed on a river of crystal light
Into a sea of dew.
A Cook
© Geoffrey Chaucer
They had a cook with them who stood alone
For boiling chicken with a marrow-bone,
With two spoons for two spoons
© Eugene Field
How trifling shall these gifts appear
Among the splendid many
That loving friends now send to cheer
Harvey and Ellen Jenney.
With Trumpet and Drum
© Eugene Field
With big tin trumpet and little red drum,
Marching like soldiers, the children come!
It 's this way and that way they circle and file---
My! but that music of theirs is fine!
To A Lady Who Commanded Me To Send Her An Account In Verse
© Mary Barber
How I succeed, you kindly ask;
Yet set me on a grievous Task,
When you oblige me to rehearse,
The Censures past upon my Verse.
With brutus in st. jo
© Eugene Field
Of all the opry-houses then obtaining in the West
The one which Milton Tootle owned was, by all odds, the best;
Milt, being rich, was much too proud to run the thing alone,
So he hired an "acting manager," a gruff old man named Krone--
