All Poems

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An Author’s Hope

© Hilaire Belloc

When I am dead, I hope it may be said:
‘His sins were scarlet, but his books were read.’

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Joney

© James Whitcomb Riley

Had a hare-lip-- Joney had:

Spiled his looks, and Joney knowed it:

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Ke Saawan Aaya {Rains Have Come}

© Amir Khusro

Amman meray baba ko bhaijo ri - Ke saavan ayaa
Beti tera baba to boodha ri - Ke saavan ayaa
Amman meray bhai ko bhaijo ri - Ke saavan ayaa
Beti tera bhai to baala ri - Ke saavan ayaa
Amman meray mamu ko bhaijo ri - Ke saavan ayaa
Beti tera mamu to baanka ri - Ke saavan ayaa

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Ghost Of The Beautiful Past

© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt

Ghost of the beautiful past, of the days long gone, of a queen, of a fair sweet woman.
Ghost with the passionate eyes, how proud, yet not too proud to have wept, to have loved, since to love is human.
Angel in fair white garments, with skirts of lawn, by the autumn wind on the pathway fluttered,
Always close by the castle wall and about to speak. But the whisper dies on her lips unuttered.

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Gratefulnesse

© George Herbert

Thou that hast giv'n so much to me,
Give one thing more, a grateful heart.
See how thy beggar works on thee
  By art.

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Smoke

© George MacDonald

Lord, I have laid my heart upon thy altar
But cannot get the wood to burn;
It hardly flares ere it begins to falter
And to the dark return.

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Nothin' To Say

© James Whitcomb Riley

Nothin' to say, my daughter! Nothin' at all to say!
Gyrls that's in love, I've noticed, ginerly has their way!
Yer mother did, afore you, when her folks objected to me--
Yit here I am, and here you air; and yer mother--where is she?

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The four Monarchyes, the Assyrian being the first, beginning under Nimrod, 131. Years after the Floo

© Anne Bradstreet

When time was young, & World in Infancy,

Man did not proudly strive for Soveraignty:

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Somewhere Up In Queensland

© Henry Lawson

He's somewhere up in Queensland,

  The old folks used to say;

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Niagara

© Joseph Rodman Drake

I.

Roar, raging torrent! and thou, mighty river,

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juz teray koi bhi

© Ahmad Faraz

juz teray koi bhi din raat na janay meray

tu kahaN hai magr Ah dost puranay meray

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Dramatic Fragment

© Henry Timrod

Let the boy have his will!  I tell thee, brother,

We treat these little ones too much like flowers,

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On The Sea's Bosom

© Swami Vivekananda

In blue sky floats a multitude of clouds --
White, black, of many shades and thicknesses;
An orange sun, about to say farewell,
Touches the massed cloud-shapes with streaks of red.

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The Nobly Born

© James Russell Lowell

  Who counts himself as nobly born
  Is noble in despite of place;
  And honors are but brands to one
  Who wears them not with nature's grace.

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In The Mission Garden

© Francis Bret Harte

I speak not the English well, but Pachita,
She speak for me; is it not so, my Pancha?
Eh, little rogue?  Come, salute me the stranger
  Americano.

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Hoodoo

© Madison Julius Cawein

She mutters and stoops by the lone bayou--

  The little green leaves are hushed on the trees--

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Song

© William Cullen Bryant

Dost thou idly ask to hear
  At what gentle seasons
Nymphs relent, when lovers near
  Press the tenderest reasons?

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Haven Woones Fortune A-Twold

© William Barnes

In leäne the gipsies, as we went

  A-milkèn, had a-pitch'd their tent,

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The Two Wives

© William Dean Howells

THE COLONEL rode by his picket-line
  In the pleasant morning sun,
That glanced from him far off to shine
  On the crouching rebel picket’s gun.

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From "Hugh Selwyn Mauberley" (June 1920)

© Ezra Pound

  IV   These fought in any case,
and some believing,
                                pro domo, in any case