All Poems
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Resurrection
© Katharine Tynan
Now the golden daffodil
Lifts from earth his shining head
That was lately frozen still
In the gardens of the dead.
In Spring
© Ernest Christopher Dowson
See how the trees and the osiers lithe
Are green bedecked and the woods are blithe,
The Song Of Exile
© Antônio Gonçalves Dias
My homeland has many palm-trees
and the thrush-song fills its air;
no bird here can sing as well
as the birds sing over there.
What Little Things!
© Madison Julius Cawein
What little things are those
That hold our happiness!
A smile, a glance, a rose
Dropped from her hair or dress;
A word, a look, a touch,-
These are so much, so much.
The Painted Cup
© William Cullen Bryant
The fresh savannas of the Sangamon
Here rise in gentle swells, and the long grass
Is mixed with rustling hazels. Scarlet tufts
Are glowing in the green, like flakes of fire;
The wanderers of the prairie know them well,
And call that brilliant flower the Painted Cup.
Cornered
© Edgar Albert Guest
I KNEW it was comin', I'd watched fer a year
Without sayin' a word to a soul excep' Ma
The Sea By The Wood
© Duncan Campbell Scott
I DWELL in the sea that is wild and deep,
But afar in a shadow still,
I can see the trees that gather and sleep
In the wood upon the hill.
Midsummer Night, Not Dark, Not Light
© Jean Ingelow
Midsummer night, not dark, not light,
Dusk all the scented air,
A Letter For My Son To One Of His School--Fellows, Son To Henry Rose, Esq;
© Mary Barber
Dear Rose, as I lately was writing some Verse,
Which I next Day intended in School to rehearse,
My Mother came in, and I thought she'd run wild:
``This Mr. Macmullen has ruin'd my Child:
Ein Fichtenbaum
© Heinrich Heine
A single fir-tree, lonely,
On a northern mountain height,
Sleeps in a white blanket,
Draped in snow and ice.
The Two Swans
© Lesbia Harford
There's a big park just close to where we live
Trees in a row
And shaggy grass whereon the dead leaves blow.
And in the middle round a great lagoon
In The High Leaves Of A Walnut
© Robert Laurence Binyon
In the high leaves of a walnut,
On the very topmost boughs,
A boy that climbed the branching bole
His cradled limbs would house.
Aphrodite
© Madison Julius Cawein
Apollo never smote a lovelier strain,
When swan-necked Hebe paused her thirsty bowl
The Common Lot
© Wilcox Ella Wheeler
It is a common fatea woman's lot
To waste on one the riches of her soul,
Who takes the wealth she gives him, but cannot
Repay the interest, and much less the whole.
Lucretius
© Alfred Tennyson
Lucilla, wedded to Lucretius, found
Her master cold; for when the morning flush
Of passion and the first embrace had died
Between them, tho' he loved her none the less,
Extraits
© Donald Justice
There is no way to ease the burden.
The voyage leads on from harm to harm,
A land of others and of silence.
