All Poems
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Grey
© Archibald Thomas Strong
Lady of Sorrow! What though laughing blue,
Thy sister, mock mens anguish, and the sun
Sonnet
© Louise Bogan
My mouth, perhaps, may learn one thing too well,
My body hear no echo save its own,
Yet will the desperate mind, maddened and proud,
Seek out the storm, escape the bitter spell
That we obey, strain to the wind, be thrown
Straight to its freedom in the thunderous cloud
Song For The Last Act
© Louise Bogan
Now that I have your face by heart, I look
Less at its features than its darkening frame
Where quince and melon, yellow as young flame,
Lie with quilled dahlias and the shepherd's crook.
An Ode to Master Anthony Stafford to hasten Him into the Country
© Thomas Randolph
COME, spur away,
I have no patience for a longer stay,
Self-Criticism In February
© Robinson Jeffers
The bay is not blue but sombre yellow
With wrack from the battered valley, it is speckled with violent
Roman Fountain
© Louise Bogan
Up from the bronze, I saw
Water without a flaw
Rush to its rest in air,
Reach to its rest, and fall.
By Heraclides
© William Cowper
In Cnidus born, the consort I became
Of Euphron. Aretimias was my name.
Portrait
© Louise Bogan
She has no need to fear the fall
Of harvest from the laddered reach
Of orchards, nor the tide gone ebbing
From the steep beach.
When Love Is Lost
© Wilcox Ella Wheeler
When love is lost, the day sets towards the night,
Albeit the morning sun may still be bright,
And not one cloud-ship sails across the sky.
Yet from the places where it used to lie
Gone is the lustrous glory of the light.
Men Loved Wholly Beyond Wisdom
© Louise Bogan
Men loved wholly beyond wisdom
Have the staff without the banner.
Like a fire in a dry thicket
Rising within women's eyes
The Pietous Complainte Of The Soule.
© Thomas Hoccleve
I meanë thus: if ony part of grace Reserued be, in tresoure or ellës where,That thu, for me purveyë and purchaseWolde vouchësaff, gret wondere but there wereI-nowgh for me: nought ellës I require; Do somwhat, than, aftir thi propirte,And schewe whi thu art cleped charite.
But now, allas, ful weel I may recorde, Whil I had myght and space of tyme I-nowgh,Of this mattere, towchid I no word,Ne, to seint, I tho my self[ë] drowgh,
That in myne nede for me may spekë now, As for no service that I have to him do:Wot I not, whom to make my monë to.
Medusa
© Louise Bogan
I had come to the house, in a cave of trees,
Facing a sheer sky.
Everything moved, -- a bell hung ready to strike,
Sun and reflection wheeled by.
A Song-Sermon
© George MacDonald
To see thy creature thou wouldst crave-
Desire thy handiwork so fair;
Then wouldst thou call through death's dank air
And I would answer from the cave!
Would that thou hid me in the grave,
And kept me with death's gaoler-care!
Last Hill In A Vista
© Louise Bogan
Come, let us tell the weeds in ditches
How we are poor, who once had riches,
And lie out in the sparse and sodden
Pastures that the cows have trodden,
The while an autumn night seals down
The comforts of the wooden town.
To The Countess Of Bedford II
© John Donne
TO have written then, when you writ, seem'd to me
Worst of spiritual vices, simony ;
Chanson Un Peu Naïve
© Louise Bogan
What body can be ploughed,
Sown, and broken yearly?
But she would not die, she vowed,
But she has, nearly.
Sing, heart sing;
Call and carol clearly.
Lines on the Death of Edward John Trelawny
© Algernon Charles Swinburne
LAST high star of the years whose thunder
Still mens listening remembrance hears,
Last light left of our fathers years,
Watched with honour and hailed with wonder
Thee too then have the years borne under,
Thou too then hast regained thy peers.
Betrothed
© Louise Bogan
You have put your two hands upon me, and your mouth,
You have said my name as a prayer.
Here where trees are planted by the water
I have watched your eyes, cleansed from regret,
And your lips, closed over all that love cannot say,
The Condition Of King Seuen's Flocks
© Confucius
Who dares to say your sheep are few?
The flocks are all three hundred strong.
Who dares despise your cattle too?
There ninety, black-lipped, press along.
Though horned the sheep, yet peaceful each appears;
The cattle come with moist and flapping ears.
