All Poems

 / page 2467 of 3210 /
star nullstar nullstar nullstar nullstar null

A monk sips morning tea

© Matsuo Basho

A monk sips morning tea,
it's quiet,
 the chrysanthemum's flowering.

star nullstar nullstar nullstar nullstar null

On A Ferry Boat

© Richard Francis Burton

THE RIVER widens to a pathless sea  

 Beneath the rain and mist and sullen skies.  

star nullstar nullstar nullstar nullstar null

Abu midjan

© Eugene Field

When Father Time swings round his scythe,
Entomb me 'neath the bounteous vine,
So that its juices, red and blithe,
May cheer these thirsty bones of mine.

star nullstar nullstar nullstar nullstar null

A Valentine

© Eugene Field

Go, Cupid, and my sweetheart tell
I love her well.
Yes, though she tramples on my heart
And rends that bleeding thing apart;

star nullstar nullstar nullstar nullstar null

Paradise Lost : Book XI.

© John Milton


Thus they, in lowliest plight, repentant stood

Praying; for from the mercy-seat above

star nullstar nullstar nullstar nullstar null

A spring poem from bion

© Eugene Field

One asketh:
"Tell me, Myrson, tell me true:
What's the season pleaseth you?
Is it summer suits you best,

star nullstar nullstar nullstar nullstar null

A rhine-land drinking song

© Eugene Field

If our own life is the life of a flower
(And that's what some sages are thinking),
We should moisten the bud with a health-giving flood
And 'twill bloom all the sweeter--

star nullstar nullstar nullstar nullstar null

A proper trewe idyll of camelot

© Eugene Field

Whenas ye plaisaunt Aperille shoures have washed and purged awaye
Ye poysons and ye rheums of earth to make a merrie May,
Ye shraddy boscage of ye woods ben full of birds that syng
Right merrilie a madrigal unto ye waking spring,
Ye whiles that when ye face of earth ben washed and wiped ycleane
Her peeping posies blink and stare like they had ben her een;

star nullstar nullstar nullstar nullstar null

Bituminous?

© Sheldon Allan Silverstein

The hard coal's called bituminous,
Or is that anthracite?
Stalactites grow down from caves,
Or do I mean stalagmites?

star nullstar nullstar nullstar nullstar null

A piteous plaint

© Eugene Field

I cannot eat my porridge,
I weary of my play;
No longer can I sleep at night,
No longer romp by day!

star nullstar nullstar nullstar nullstar null

A paraphrase

© Eugene Field

Our Father who art in heaven, hallowed be Thy name;
Thy Kingdom come, Thy will be done on earth, in Heaven the same;
Give us this day our daily bread, and may our debts to heaven--
As we our earthly debts forgive--by Thee be all forgiven;

star nullstar nullstar nullstar nullstar null

Sleeping With Boa

© May Swenson

I show her how to put her arms around me,
but she’s much too small.
What’s worse, she doesn’t understand.
And
although she lies beside me, sticking
out her tongue, it’s herself she licks.

star nullstar nullstar nullstar nullstar null

A heine love song

© Eugene Field

The image of the moon at night
All trembling in the ocean lies,
But she, with calm and steadfast light,
Moves proudly through the radiant skies,

star nullstar nullstar nullstar nullstar null

The Three Maidens

© George Meredith

There were three maidens met on the highway;
The sun was down, the night was late:
And two sang loud with the birds of May,
O the nightingale is merry with its mate.

star nullstar nullstar nullstar nullstar null

A drinking song

© Eugene Field

Come, brothers, share the fellowship
We celebrate to-night;
There's grace of song on every lip
And every heart is light!

star nullstar nullstar nullstar nullstar null

Deola's Return

© Cesare Pavese

I'll turn round in the street and look at the passers-by,

I'll be a passer-by myself. I'll learn

star nullstar nullstar nullstar nullstar null

A Chaucerian Paraphrase of Horace

© Eugene Field

Syn that you, Chloe, to your moder sticken,
Maketh all ye yonge bacheloures full sicken;
Like as a lyttel deere you ben y-hiding
Whenas come lovers with theyre pityse chiding;

star nullstar nullstar nullstar nullstar null

The Tragedy

© Henry Lawson

Oh, I never felt so wretched, and things never looked so blue
Since the days I gulped the physic that my Granny used to brew;
For a friend in whom I trusted, entering my room last night,
Stole a bottleful of Heenzo from the desk whereon I write.

star nullstar nullstar nullstar nullstar null

Kiss

© Ruth Padel

He's gone. She can't believe it, can't go on. She's going to give up painting. So she paints Her final canvas, total-turn-off
Black. One long
Obsidian goodbye. A charcoal-burner's Smirnoff, The mirror of Loch Ness Reflecting the monster back to its own eye.
But something's wrong. Those mad Black-body particles don't sing Her story of despair, the steel and