All Poems
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The Garden of Sin
© Robert Fuller Murray
I know the garden-close of sin,
The cloying fruits, the noxious flowers,
I long have roamed the walks and bowers,
Desiring what no man shall win:
L'Envoi
© Herman Melville
My towers at last! These rovings end,
Their thirst is slaked in larger dearth:
The yearning infinite recoils,
For terrible is earth.
The Fire
© Edith Nesbit
I was picking raspberries, my head was in the canes,
And he came behind and kissed me, and I smacked him for his pains.
To William H. Seward
© John Greenleaf Whittier
STATESMAN, I thank thee! and, if yet dissent
Mingles, reluctant, with my large content,
I cannot censure what was nobly meant.
But, while constrained to hold even Union less
Trinitie Sunday
© George Herbert
Lord, who hast formed me out of mud,
And hast redeemed me through thy bloud,
And sanctified me to do good;
St. Matthias' Day
© John Keble
Who is God's chosen priest?
He, who on Christ stands waiting day and night,
Who traceth His holy steps, nor ever ceased,
From Jordan banks to Bethphage height:
Lockerbie Street
© Bliss William Carman
For The Brthday Of James Whitcomb Riley, October 7, 1914
LOCKERBIE STREET is a little street,
Just one block long;
But the days go there with a magical air,
Olney Hymn 40: Peace After A Storm
© William Cowper
When darkness long has veil'd my mind,
And smiling day once more appears,
Then, my Redeemer, then I find
The folly of my doubts and fears.
Message
© Sara Teasdale
I heard a cry in the night,
A thousand miles it came,
Sharp as a flash of light,
My name, my name!
A Meeting
© Wilcox Ella Wheeler
Quite carelessly I turned the newsy sheet;
A song I sang, full many a year ago,
Smiled up at me, as in a busy street
One meets an old-time friend he used to know.
The Sleepless Jesus
© George MacDonald
'Tis time to sleep, my little boy:
Why gaze thy bright eyes so?
A Lost Love
© Henry Francis Lyte
I meet thy pensive, moonlight face;
Thy thrilling voice I hear;
And former hours and scenes retrace,
Too fleeting, and too dear!
A dialogue between Sir Henry Wootton and Mr. Donne
© John Donne
IF her disdain least change in you can move,
You do not love,
For when that hope gives fuel to the fire,
You sell desire.
Love is not love, but given free ;
And so is mine ; so should yours be.
O come quickly!
© Thomas Campion
NEVER weather-beaten sail more willing bent to shore,
Never tired pilgrim's limbs affected slumber more,
Than my wearied sprite now longs to fly out of my troubled breast:
O come quickly, sweetest Lord, and take my soul to rest!
By Now So Sick Of Waiting
© Gaspara Stampa
By now so sick of waiting, I'm by now
so beaten by the pain (by now the burn
won't stop and he forgets so quickly how
I trust in his return and how I yearn),
The Hoosier
© Hew Ainslie
We lads that live up in the nobs,
Tho' our manners might yet bear a rubbing,
