All Poems
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The Sunlight on the Garden
© Louis MacNeice
The sunlight on the garden
Hardens and grows cold,
We cannot cage the minute
Within its nets of gold;
When all is told
We cannot beg for pardon.
After The Storm
© Boris Pasternak
The air is full of after-thunder freshness,
And everything rejoices and revives.
With the whole outburst of its purple clusters
The lilac drinks the air of paradise.
Eight Balloons
© Sheldon Allan Silverstein
Eight balloons no one was buyin'
All broke loose one afternoon.
Eight balloons with strings a-flyin',
Free to do what they wanted to.
Lose The Day Loitering
© Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
Lose the day loitering,'twill be the same story
To-morrow, and the next more dilatory,
Lost Things
© Sara Teasdale
OH, I could let the world go by,
Its loud new wonders and its wars,
But how will I give up the sky
When winter dusk is set with stars?
A Memory
© Lola Ridge
Inadequate night…
And mooned white memory
Of a tropic sea…
How softly it comes up
Like an ungathered lily.
A Prayer for the Past: All sights and sounds of day and yea
© George MacDonald
All sights and sounds of day and year,
All groups and forms, each leaf and gem,
Are thine, O God, nor will I fear
To talk to thee of them.
The Last Portage
© William Henry Drummond
I'm sleepin' las' night w'en I dream a dream
An' a wonderful wan it seem--
For Im off on de road I was never see,
Too long an' hard for a man lak me,
So ole he can only wait de call
Is sooner or later come to all.
At The Age Of 35
© John Le Gay Brereton
Gone are the aching want, the unceasing fret,
Mad flight and moaning over battered wings,
Almanac Des Bergers -1591
© John Kenyon
Pocula Janus amatet Febrius, algeo clamat;
Martius arva colitAprilis florida prodit
"When I get up to light the fire"
© Lesbia Harford
When I get up to light the fire,
And dress with all the speed I may
By candle-light, I dread the hours
That go to make a single day.
Genesis BK XIX
© Caedmon
(ll. 1217-1224) Then Methuselah held sway among his kinsmen, and
longest of all men enjoyed the pleasures of this world. He begat
a multitude of sons and daughters before his death. And all the
years of Methuselah were nine hundred and seventy winters, and he
died.
Hunting Of The Snark: Preface
© Lewis Carroll
If--and the thing is wildly possible--t he charge of writing
nonsense were ever brought against the author of this brief but
instructive poem, it would be based, I feel convinced, on the line
Crocodile's Toothache
© Sheldon Allan Silverstein
Oh the Crocodile
Went to the dentist
And sat down in the chair,
And the dentist said, "Now tell me, sir,
A Lesson In Vengeance
© Sylvia Plath
In the dour ages
Of drafty cells and draftier castles,
Of dragons breathing without the frame of fables,
Saint and king unfisted obstruction's knuckles
By no miracle or majestic means,
Hymn to the North Star
© William Cullen Bryant
The sad and solemn night
Hath yet her multitude of cheerful fires;
The glorious host of light
Walk the dark hemisphere till she retires;
All through her silent watches, gliding slow,
Her constellations come, and climb the heavens, and go.
