All Poems
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Hymn
© Sir Walter Raleigh
Rise, O my soul! with thy desires to heaven,
And with divinest contemplation use
Thy time, when time's eternity is given,
And let vain thoughts no more thy thoughts abuse;
But down in darkness let them lie;
So live thy better, let thy worse thoughts die.
Suppose
© Eugene Field
Suppose, my dear, that you were I
And by your side your sweetheart sate;
Suppose you noticed by and by
The distance 'twixt you were too great;
Now tell me, dear, what would you do?
I know--and so do you.
The Philanthropist
© Gilbert Keith Chesterton
Gently replied the angel of the pen:
"Labour in peace and love your fellow-men:
And love not God, since men alone are dear,
Only fear God; for you have cause to fear."
Hafbur And Signy
© William Morris
It was the Kings son Hafbur
Woke up amid the night,
And gan to tell of a wondrous dream
In swift words nowise light.
Star of the east
© Eugene Field
Star of the East, that long ago
Brought wise men on their way
Where, angels singing to and fro,
The Child of Bethlehem lay--
Above that Syrian hill afar
Thou shinest out to-night, O Star!
Ode to Melancholy
© Mary Darby Robinson
SORC'RESS of the Cave profound!
Hence, with thy pale, and meagre train,
Nor dare my roseate bow'r profane,
Where light-heel'd mirth despotic reigns,
Slightly bound in feath'ry chains,
And scatt'ring blisses round.
Some time
© Eugene Field
Last night, my darling, as you slept,
I thought I heard you sigh,
And to your little crib I crept,
And watched a space thereby;
Song. (Birds Of Passage. Flight The Fifth)
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Stay, stay at home, my heart, and rest;
Home-keeping hearts are happiest,
For those that wander they know not where
Are full of trouble and full of care;
To stay at home is best.
Soldier, Maiden, and Flower
© Eugene Field
"Sweetheart, take this," a soldier said,
"And bid me brave good-by;
It may befall we ne'er shall wed,
But love can never die.
The Mice. A Tale - To Mr. Adrian Drift
© Matthew Prior
But why all this? Is this your fable?
Believe me, Matt, it seems a bauble;
If you will let me know th' intent on't,
Go to your mice, and make an end on't.
So, so, rock-a-by so!
© Eugene Field
So, so, rock-a-by so!
Off to the garden where dreamikins grow;
And here is a kiss on your winkyblink eyes,
And here is a kiss on your dimpledown cheek
Vull a Man
© William Barnes
No, Im a man, Im vull a man,
You beat my manhood, if you can.
Youll be a man if you can teake
All steates that household life do meake.
Sister's cake
© Eugene Field
I'd not complain of Sister Jane, for she was good and kind,
Combining with rare comeliness distinctive gifts of mind;
Nay, I'll admit it were most fit that, worn by social cares,
She'd crave a change from parlor life to that below the stairs,
And that, eschewing needlework and music, she should take
Herself to the substantial art of manufacturing cake.
Goblins And Rainbows
© James Baker
The colours will rein supreme,
Shining above all who can gaze.
There she is, the last sound,
Never peace, only slaves.
Sicilian Lullaby
© Eugene Field
Hush, little one, and fold your hands;
The sun hath set, the moon is high;
The sea is singing to the sands,
And wakeful posies are beguiled
By many a fairy lullaby:
Hush, little child, my little child!
Fourteenth Sunday After Trinity
© John Keble
Ten cleansed, and only one remain!
Who would have thought our nature's stain
Shuffle-Shoon and Amber-Locks
© Eugene Field
Shuffle-Shoon and Amber-Locks
Sit together, building blocks;
Shuffle-Shoon is old and grey,
Amber-Locks a little child,
Pour Madeleine Seule
© Guillaume Apollinaire
Lune candide vous brillez moins que les hanches
De mon amour
Seein' things
© Eugene Field
I ain't afeard uv snakes, or toads, or bugs, or worms, or mice,
An' things 'at girls are skeered uv I think are awful nice!
I'm pretty brave, I guess; an' yet I hate to go to bed,
For, when I'm tucked up warm an' snug an' when my prayers are said,
Mother tells me "Happy dreams!" and takes away the light,
An' leaves me lyin' all alone an' seein' things at night!
Veni, Vidi, Vixi (French & English)
© Victor Marie Hugo
J'ai bien assez vécu, puisque dans mes douleurs
Je marche, sans trouver de bras qui me secourent,
Puisque je ris à peine aux enfants qui m'entourent,
Puisque je ne suis plus réjoui par les fleurs ;
