All Poems
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There is a Hill
© Robert Seymour Bridges
There is a hill beside the silver Thames,
Shady with birch and beech and odorous pine
The Mock Self
© William Watson
Few friends are mine, though many wights there be
Who, meeting oft a phantasm that makes claim
I Got Two Vields
© William Barnes
I got two vields, an' I don't ceäre
What squire mid have a bigger sheäre.
Hero And Leander: The Second Sestiad
© Christopher Marlowe
By this, sad Hero, with love unacquainted,
Viewing Leander's face, fell down and fainted.
Love, Hope, Desire, And Fear
© Percy Bysshe Shelley
...
And many there were hurt by that strong boy,
His name, they said, was Pleasure,
And near him stood, glorious beyond measure
As Celia With Her Sparrow Playd
© Thomas Parnell
As Celia with her Sparrow playd
She took a glass unseen
Sonnet -- Ye Hasten To The Grave!
© Percy Bysshe Shelley
Ye hasten to the grave! What seek ye there,
Ye restless thoughts and busy purposes
Of the idle brain, which the world's livery wear?
O thou quick heart, which pantest to possess
Men Of Verdun
© Robert Laurence Binyon
There are five men in the moonlight
That by their shadows stand;
Three hobble humped on crutches,
And two lack each a hand.
He is more than a hero
© Sappho
He is more than a hero
he is a god in my eyes-
the man who is allowed
to sit beside you - he
The Barn
© Edward Thomas
They should never have built a barn there, at all -
Drip, drip, drip! - under that elm tree,
Though when it was young. Now it is old
But good, not like the barn and me.
Ole Kate
© Ezra Pound
When I was only a youngster,
Sing: toodle doodlede ootl
Ole Kate would git her 'arf a pint
And wouldn't' giv' a damn hoot.
Individuality.
© Sidney Lanier
Sail on, sail on, fair cousin Cloud:
Oh loiter hither from the sea.
Still-eyed and shadow-brow'd,
Steal off from yon far-drifting crowd,
And come and brood upon the marsh with me.
The Stepmother
© James Whitcomb Riley
First she come to our house,
Tommy run and hid;
And Emily and Bob and me
We cried jus' like we did
When Mother died,--and we all said
'At we all wisht 'at we was dead!
Tale III
© George Crabbe
bound;
In all that most confines them they confide,
Their slavery boast, and make their bonds their
Nothing At All In the Paper Today
© Anonymous
Nothing at all in the paper today!
Only a murder somewhere or other;
A girl who has put her child away,
Not being a wife as well as a mother;
Margaret's Bridal Eve
© George Meredith
The old grey mother she thrummed on her knee:
There is a rose that's ready;
And which of the handsome young men shall it be?
There's a rose that's ready for clipping.
Your Harps, Ye Trembling Saints
© Augustus Montague Toplady
Your harps, ye trembling saints,
Down from the willows take;
Loud to the praise of love divine
Bid every string awake.
Upstream
© Carl Sandburg
The strong men keep coming on.
They go down shot, hanged, sick, broken.
They live on, fighting, singing, lucky as plungers.
Too Late
© Dinah Maria Mulock Craik
COULD ye come back to me, Douglas, Douglas,
In the old likeness that I knew,
I would be so faithful, so loving, Douglas,
Douglas, Douglas, tender and true.
The Tomb Of Laius
© Richard Monckton Milnes
Rises a tomb--like stony mass
Amid the bosky mountain--bases;
It seems no work of human care,
But many rocks split off from one:
Laius, the Theban king, lies there,--
His murderer dipus, his son.
