All Poems
/ page 2479 of 3210 /
The Sicilian Captive
© Felicia Dorothea Hemans
The champions had come from their fields of war,
Over the crests of the billows far,
They had brought back the spoils of a hundred shores,
Where the deep had foam'd to their flashing oars.
Malade
© David Herbert Lawrence
And if the day outside were mine! What is the day
But a grey cave, with great grey spider-cloths hanging
Low from the roof, and the wet dust falling softly from them
Over the wet dark rocks, the houses, and over
The spiders with white faces, that scuttle on the floor of the cave!
I am choking with creeping, grey confinedness.
The Black Knight. (From The German Of Uhland)
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
'Twas Pentecost, the Feast of Gladness,
When woods and fields put off all sadness,
Thus began the King and spake:
So from the halls
Of ancient Hofburgh's walls,
A luxuriant Spring shall break.
Perfidy
© David Herbert Lawrence
Hollow rang the house when I knocked on the door,
And I lingered on the threshold with my hand
Upraised to knock and knock once more:
Listening for the sound of her feet across the floor,
Hollow re-echoed my heart.
Grey Evening
© David Herbert Lawrence
When you went, how was it you carried with you
My missal book of fine, flamboyant hours?
My book of turrets and of red-thorn bowers,
And skies of gold, and ladies in bright tissue?
We Must Get Home
© James Whitcomb Riley
We must get home! How could we stray like this?--
So far from home, we know not where it is,--
Only in some fair, apple-blossomy place
Of children's faces--and the mother's face--
We dimly dream it, till the vision clears
Even in the eyes of fancy, glad with tears.
The Hands of the Betrothed
© David Herbert Lawrence
Her tawny eyes are onyx of thoughtlessness,
Hardened they are like gems in ancient modesty;
Yea, and her mouths prudent and crude caress
Means even less than her many words to me.
Fable Of The Rhododendron Stealers
© Sylvia Plath
I walked the unwalked garden of rose-beds
In the public park; at home felt the want
Of a single rose present to imagine
The garden's remainder in full paint.
The Inheritance
© David Herbert Lawrence
Since you did depart
Out of my reach, my darling,
Into the hidden,
I see each shadow start
With recognition, and I
Am wonder-ridden.
We Two Boys Together Clinging
© Walt Whitman
WE two boys together clinging,
One the other never leaving,
Excursion
© David Herbert Lawrence
I wonder, can the night go by;
Can this shot arrow of travel fly
Shaft-golden with light, sheer into the sky
Of a dawned to-morrow,
The Pond
© Amy Lowell
Cold, wet leaves
Floating on moss-coloured water
And the croaking of frogs
Cracked bell-notes in the twilight.
Liaison
© David Herbert Lawrence
A big bud of moon hangs out of the twilight,
Star-spiders spinning their thread
Hang high suspended, withouten respite
Watching us overhead.
La petite marchande de fleurs
© François Coppée
Elle nous proposa ses fleurs d'une voix douce,
Et souriant avec ce sourire qui tousse.
Et c'était monstrueux, cette enfant de sept ans
Qui mourait de l'hiver en offrant le printemps.
Meeting Among the Mountains
© David Herbert Lawrence
The little pansies by the road have turned
Away their purple faces and their gold,
And evening has taken all the bees from the thyme,
And all the scent is shed away by the cold.
Song Of Saul, Before His Last Battle
© George Gordon Byron
I.
Warriors and Chiefs! should the shaft or the sword
Pierce me in leading the host of the Lord,
Heed not the corse, though a king's, in your path:
Bury your steel in the bosoms of Gath!
Giorno dei Morti
© David Herbert Lawrence
Along the avenue of cypresses,
All in their scarlet cloaks and surplices
Of linen, go the chanting choristers,
The priests in gold and black, the villagers. . .
A Passing Bell
© David Herbert Lawrence
Mournfully to and fro, to and fro the trees are waving;
What did you say, my dear?
The rain-bruised leaves are suddenly shaken, as a child
Asleep still shakes in the clutch of a sob
Yes, my love, I hear.
