All Poems
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Garden and cradle
© Eugene Field
When our babe he goeth walking in his garden,
Around his tinkling feet the sunbeams play;
The posies they are good to him,
And bow them as they should to him,
To The Honble Commodore Hood on His Pardoning a Deserter
© Phillis Wheatley
It was thy noble soul and high desert
That caus'd these breathings of my grateful heart
Fisherman jim's kids
© Eugene Field
Fisherman Jim lived on the hill
With his bonnie wife an' his little boys;
'T wuz "Blow, ye winds, as blow ye will -
Naught we reck of your cold and noise!"
Fragment: Is It That In Some Brighter Sphere
© Percy Bysshe Shelley
Is it that in some brighter sphere
We part from friends we meet with here?
Or do we see the Future pass
Over the Presents dusky glass?
Fiddle-Dee-Dee
© Eugene Field
There once was a bird that lived up in a tree,
And all he could whistle was "Fiddle-dee-dee" -
A very provoking, unmusical song
For one to be whistling the summer day long!
Yet always contented and busy was he
With that vocal recurrence of "Fiddle-dee-dee."
Epistle To Mr. Murray
© George Gordon Byron
My dear Mr. Murray,
You're in a damn 'd hurry,
To set up this ultimate Canto;
But (if they don't rob us)
You'll see Mr. Hobhouse
Will bring it safe in his portmanteau.
Envoy
© Eugene Field
Prince, show me the quickest way and best
To gain the subject of my moan;
We've neither spinsters nor relics out West--
These do I love, and these alone.
Ed
© Eugene Field
Ed was a man that played for keeps, 'nd when he tuk the notion,
You cudn't stop him any more'n a dam 'ud stop the ocean;
For when he tackled to a thing 'nd sot his mind plum to it,
You bet yer boots he done that thing though it broke the bank to do it!
So all us boys uz knowed him best allowed he wuzn't jokin'
When on a Sunday he remarked uz how he'd gin up smokin'.
In Earliest Spring
© William Dean Howells
TOSSING his mane of snows in wildest eddies and tangles,
Lion-like March cometh in, hoarse, with tempestuous breath,
Through all the moaning chimneys, and 'thwart all the hollows and
angles
Round the shuddering house, threatening of winter and death.
Dutch lullaby
© Eugene Field
Wynken, Blynken, and Nod one night
Sailed off in a wooden shoe,--
Sailed on a river of misty light
Into a sea of dew.
On The Move 'Man, You Gotta Go.'
© Thom Gunn
The blue jay scuffling in the bushes follows
Some hidden purpose, and the gush of birds
Dr. sam
© Eugene Field
TO MISS GRACE KINGDown in the old French quarter,
Just out of Rampart street,
I wend my way
At close of day
Der mann im keller
© Eugene Field
How cool and fair this cellar where
My throne a dusky cask is;
To do no thing but just to sing
And drown the time my task is.
Croquet by Moonlight
© Julia A Moore
On a moonlight evening, in the month of May,
A number of young people were playing at croquet,
They mingled together, the bashful with the gay,
And had a pleasant time and chat, while playing at croquet.
De Amicitiis
© Eugene Field
Though care and strife
Elsewhere be rife,
Upon my word I do not heed 'em;
In bed I lie
With books hard by,
And with increasing zest I read 'em.
To Mr. I. P.
© John Donne
BLEST are your north parts, for all this long time
My sun is with you ; cold and dark's our clime ;
Cornish Lullaby
© Eugene Field
Out on the mountain over the town,
All night long, all night long,
The trolls go up and the trolls go down,
Bearing their packs and crooning a song;
Soz e gham De K Mujhe us nay yah Irshad Kya
© Josh Malihabadi
Soz e gham De K Mujhe Uss Ne Ye Irshaad Kiya
Ja Tujhe Kash-Ma-Kash-e-Dahar Se Azaad Kiya
Chrystmasse of Olde
© Eugene Field
God rest you, Chrysten gentil men,
Wherever you may be,--
God rest you all in fielde or hall,
Or on ye stormy sea;
For on this morn oure Chryst is born
That saveth you and me.
