All Poems
/ page 678 of 3210 /Machinist's Song
© Lesbia Harford
The foot of my machine
Sails up and down
Upon the blue of this fine lady's gown.
Sail quickly, little boat,
With gifts for me,
Night and the goldy streets and liberty.
Ego
© John Greenleaf Whittier
On page of thine I cannot trace
The cold and heartless commonplace,
A statue's fixed and marble grace.
Banks of Riverine
© Anonymous
Hark! Hark! the dogs are barking, I can no longer stay;
The boys have all gone shearing, so I heard the shepherd say;
So I must be off in the morning, love, though it's many a weary mile,
To meet the Victorian shearers on the banks of Riverine.
Learn
© Ada Cambridge
Learn, learn, learn,-
Our beautiful world is not a field for sheep;
Not just a place wherein to laugh and weep,
To eat and drink, to dance and sigh and sleep.
And then to moulder into senseless dust.
Eloped
© Hristo Botev
In the glade a pipe is played,
By the forest green and still,
Where Stoyana, fair, sweet maid,
Runs for water to the rill.
Ode to Sleep
© John Logan
In vain I court till dawning light,
The coy divinity of night;
Restless, from side to side I turn,
Arise, ye musings of the morn!
Summer Serenade
© Ogden Nash
When the thunder stalks the sky,
When tickle-footed walks the fly,
When shirt is wet and throat is dry,
Look, my darling, thats July.
Sonnets Of The Blood VI
© Allen Tate
The fire I praise was once perduring flame-
Till it snuffs with our generation out;
A Torchbearer
© Edith Wharton
Great cities rise and have their fall; the brass
That held their glories moulders in its turn.
Shabby HouseWall
© Robert Laurence Binyon
Shabby house--wall
Of bricks once yellow,
Dingied with city grime,
Dusty and sallow,
Elegy
© Charlotte Turner Smith
"DARK gathering clouds involve the threatening skies,
The sea heaves conscious of the impending gloom,
Deep, hollow murmurs from the cliffs arise;
They come--the Spirits of the Tempest come!
Eliza Crossing The River
© Harriet Beecher Stowe
From her resting-place by the trader chased,
Through the winter evening cold,
Eliza came with her boy at last,
Where a broad deep river rolled.
Vppon a Deedmans Hed
© John Skelton
Youre vgly tokyn.
My mynd hath brokyn.
From worldly lust.
For I haue dyscust.
We ar but dust.
And dy we must.
An Epistle to a Lady
© Mary Leapor
In vain, dear Madam, yes in vain you strive;
Alas! to make your luckless Mira thrive,
For Tycho and Copernicus agree,
No golden Planet bent its Rays on me.