All Poems
/ page 2514 of 3210 /A Song of the Palace.
© Bai Juyi
Her tears are spent, but no dreams come.
She can hear the others singing through the night.
She has lost his love. Alone with her beauty,
She leans till dawn on her incense-pillow.
Peleg Poague
© Edgar Lee Masters
Horses and men are just alike.
There was my stallion, Billy Lee,
Black as a cat and trim as a deer,
With an eye of fire, keen to start,
Mrs. Benjamin Painter
© Edgar Lee Masters
I know that he told how I snared his soul
With a snare which bled him to death.
And all the men loved him,
And most of the women pitied him.
Come To My Cantilations
© Ezra Pound
Come my cantilations,
Let us dump our hatreds into one bunch and be done with them,
Mary McNeely
© Edgar Lee Masters
Passer-by,
To love is to find your own soul
Through the soul of the beloved one.
When the beloved one withdraws itself from your soul
The Babysitters
© Sylvia Plath
It is ten years, now, since we rowed to Children's Island.
The sun flamed straight down that noon on the water off Marblehead.
Hildrup Tubbs
© Edgar Lee Masters
I made two fights for the people.
First I left my party, bearing the gonfalon
Of independence, for reform, and was defeated.
Next I used my rebel strength
London Types: Beef-Eater
© William Ernest Henley
His beat lies knee-high through a dust of story-
A dust of terror and torture, grief and crime;
Caroline Branson
© Edgar Lee Masters
With our hearts like drifting suns, had we but walked,
As often before, the April fields till star-light
Silkened over with viewless gauze the darkness
Under the cliff, our trysting place in the wood,
Winter Dusk
© Walter de la Mare
Dark frost was in the air without,
The dusk was still with cold and gloom,
When less than even a shadow came
And stood within the room.
Hare Drummer
© Edgar Lee Masters
Do the boys and girls still go to Siever's
For cider, after school, in late September?
Or gather hazel nuts among the thickets
On Aaron Hatfield's farm when the frosts begin?
Elmer Karr
© Edgar Lee Masters
What but the love of God could have softened
And made forgiving the people of Spoon River
Toward me who wronged the bed of Thomas Merritt
And murdered him beside?
Evening Song
© Kenneth Fearing
Sleep, McKade.
Fold up the day. It was a bright scarf.
Put it away.
Take yourself to pieces like a house of cards.
Alfred Moir
© Edgar Lee Masters
Why was I not devoured by self-contempt,
And rotted down by indifference
And impotent revolt like Indignation Jones?
Why, with all of my errant steps
Snarleyow
© Rudyard Kipling
They was movin' into action, they was needed very sore,
To learn a little schoolin' to a native army corps,
They 'ad nipped against an uphill, they was tuckin' down the brow,
When a tricky, trundlin' roundshot give the knock to ~Snarleyow~.
Alfonso Churchill
© Edgar Lee Masters
They laughed at me as "Prof. Moon,"
As a boy in Spoon River, born with the thirst
Of knowing about the stars.
They jeered when I spoke of the lunar mountains,
The Patchwork Bonnet
© Robert Graves
Across the room my silent love I throw,
Where you sit sewing in bed by candlelight,
Your young stern profile and industrious fingers
Displayed against the blind in a shadow-show,
To Dinda's grave delight.
Zilpha Marsh
© Edgar Lee Masters
At four o'clock in late October
I sat alone in the country school-house
Back from the road 'mid stricken fields,
And an eddy of wind blew leaves on the pane,
The Building
© Philip Larkin
Higher than the handsomest hotel
The lucent comb shows up for miles, but see,
Isaiah Beethoven
© Edgar Lee Masters
They told me I had three months to live,
So I crept to Bernadotte,
And sat by the mill for hours and hours
Where the gathered waters deeply moving