All Poems
/ page 723 of 3210 /To a Maniac
© Amelia Opie
There was a time, poor phrensied maid,
When I could o'er thy grief have mourned,
And still with tears the tale repaid
Of sense by sorrow's sway o'erturned.
The High Road In Winter
© Alexander Pushkin
Between the rolling vapours
The moon glides soft and bright;
Across the dreary fallows
She casts a mournful light.
To Jane: The Recollection
© Percy Bysshe Shelley
I.
Now the last day of many days,
All beautiful and bright as thou,
The loveliest and the last, is dead,
March Mournful and Vertical
© Kostas Karyotakis
I stare at the ceiling's plasterwork.
I'm drawn into the dance of the meanders.
My happiness, I'm thinking, would
lie in height.
To A Sleeping Child
© Thomas Hood
I
Oh, 'tis a touching thing, to make one weep,
A tender infant with its curtain'd eye,
Breathing as it would neither live nor die
Centennial Celebration
© Julia A Moore
In the year eighteen seventy-six,
A Fourth of July celebration
Nyx
© Catherine Pozzi
O vous mes nuits, ô noires attendues
O pays fier, ô secrets obstinés
O longs regards, ô foudroyantes nues
O vol permis outre les cieux fermés.
Grace Jennings Carmicheal
© Henry Lawson
I hate the pen, the foolscap fair,
The poets corner, and the page,
The Courage Of Shutting-Up
© Sylvia Plath
The courage of the shut mouth, in spite of artillery!
The line pink and quiet, a worm, basking.
There are black disks behind it, the disks of outrage,
And the outrage of a sky, the lined brain of it.
The disks revolve, they ask to be heard
An Invocation
© Walter Savage Landor
WE are what suns and winds and waters make us;
The mountains are our sponsors, and the rills
Fashion and win their nursling with their smiles.
But where the land is dim from tyranny,
To My Godchild Alice
© Dinah Maria Mulock Craik
ALICE, Alice, little Alice,
My new-christened baby Alice,
Can there ever rhymes be found
To express my wishes for thee
The Last Wish
© Felicia Dorothea Hemans
Go to the forest-shade,
Seek thou the well-known glade,
Where, heavy with sweet dew, the violets lie,
Gleaming thro' moss-tufts deep,
Like dark eyes fill'd with sleep,
And bath'd in hues of summer's midnight sky.
A Message Of Jeff Davis In Secret Session
© James Russell Lowell
I sent you a messige, my friens, t'other day,
To tell you I'd nothin' pertickler to say:
Tomes
© William Taylor Collins
There is a section in my library for death
and another for Irish history,
Le Rat De Ville Et Le Rat Des Champs
© André Marie de Chénier
Un jour le rat des champs, ami du rat de ville,
Invita son ami dans son rustique asile.
A Tombless Epitaph
© Samuel Taylor Coleridge
'Tis true, Idoloclastes Satyrane!
(So call him, for so mingling blame with praise,
And smiles with anxious looks, his earliest friends,
Masking his birth-name, wont to character
Armenian Folk-Song--The Partridge
© Eugene Field
As beats the sun from mountain crest,
With "pretty, pretty",