All Poems
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The Wreck
© Harry Kemp
Seared bone-white by the glare of summer weather,
Cast side-long, on the barren beach she lies,
She who once brought the earth's far ends together
And ransacked East and West for merchandise.
If Stars Dropped Out Of Heaven
© Christina Georgina Rossetti
If stars dropped out of heaven,
And if flowers took their place,
Goethals, The Prophet Engineer
© Percy MacKaye
A man went down to Panama
Where many a man had died
To slit the sliding mountains
And lift the eternal tide:
A man stood up in Panama,
And the mountains stood aside.
Woman's Trifling Needs
© Mercy Otis Warren
AN inventory clear of all she needs Lamira offers here; Nor does she fear a rigid Cato's frown When she lays by the rich embroidered gown, And modestly compounds for just enough- Perhaps, some dozens of more flighty stuff; With lawns and lustrings, blond, and Mechlin laces, Fringes and jewels, fans and tweezer-cases; memory Gay cloaks, and hats of every shape and size, Scarfs, cardinals, and ribbons of all dyes; With ruffles stamped, and aprons of tambour, Tippets and handkerchiefs, at least three score; With finest muslins that fair India boasts, And the choice herbage from Chinesan coasts; (But while the fragrant hyson leaf regales, Who'll wear the homespun produce of the vales? For if 'twould save the nation from the curse Of standing troops; or-name a plague still worse- Few can this choice, delicious draught give up, Though all Medea's poisons fill the cup
Empire Building
© Dora Sigerson Shorter
"I'll teach them how to work, and how to pray."
Oh, John, you never think before your day
Rome was, Greece wascan one believe it true?
Great Egypt died, and never heard of you!
Your Eyes Go Sad
© Fernando António Nogueira Pessoa
Your eyes go sad. You're not
Listening to what I say.
They doze, dream, fade out.
Not listening. I talk away.
Charles Harpur
© Henry Kendall
So let him sleep, the rugged hymns
And broken lights of woods above him!
And let me sing how sorrow dims
The eyes of those that used to love him.
Hymn of The Dunkers
© John Greenleaf Whittier
Wake, sisters, wake! the day-star shines;
Above Ephrata's eastern pines
The dawn is breaking, cool and calm.
Wake, sisters, wake to prayer and psalm!
On Her Lightheartedness
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
I WOULD I had thy courage, dear, to face
This bankruptcy of love, and greet despair
With smiling eyes and unconcerned embrace,
And these few words of banter at dull care.
Wanderers Song
© Arthur Symons
I have had enough of women, and enough of love,
But the land waits, and the sea waits, and day and night is enough;
Give me a long white road, and the grey wide path of the sea.
And the wind's will and the bird's will, and the heart-ache still in me.
A New Pilgrimage: Sonnet XXI
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
To Switzerland, the land of lakes and snow,
And ancient freedom of ancestral type,
And modern innkeepers, who cringe and bow,
And venal echoes, and Pans paid to pipe!
The Captive Knight
© Felicia Dorothea Hemans
"I am here, with my heavy chain!
And I look on a torrent sweeping by,
And an eagle rushing to the sky,
And a host, to its battle-plain!
Cease awhile, clarion! Clarion, wild and shrill,
Cease! let them hear the captive's voiceâbe still!
What I can doI will
© Emily Dickinson
What I can doI will
Though it be little as a Daffodil
That I cannotmust be
Unknown to possibility
Arisen At Last
© John Greenleaf Whittier
I SAID I stood upon thy grave,
My Mother State, when last the moon
Of blossoms clomb the skies of June.
And, scattering ashes on my head,
The Singer
© John Greenleaf Whittier
Years since (but names to me before),
Two sisters sought at eve my door;
Two song-birds wandering from their nest,
A gray old farm-house in the West.
The cricket sang,
© Emily Dickinson
The cricket sang,
And set the sun,
And workmen finished, one by one,
Their seam the day upon.
Natalias Resurrection: Sonnet XX
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
Oh, pitiful awaking! What was Adrian's pleasure,
That it had earned for him such bitterness?
What his soul's pride that its new tender measure
Should find its echo in a dirge like this?
Sin
© Madison Julius Cawein
There is a legend of an old Hartz tower
That tells of one, a noble, who had sold
