All Poems
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Quee, Quee!
© Louisa May Alcott
"Quee, quee!
Wait and see:
You were good to me;
So here I come,
From my little home,
To help you willingly,"
The Woodpecker
© Emily Dickinson
His bill an auger is,
His head, a cap and frill.
He laboreth at every tree,-
A worm his utmost goal.
Freedom's Star
© Anonymous
On thee he depends when he threads the dark woods
Ere the bloodhounds have hunted him back;
Thou leadest him on over mountains and floods,
With thy beams shining full on his track.
Shine on, &c.
To The Cricket
© Archibald Lampman
Didst thou not tease and fret me to and fro,
Sweet spirit of this summer-circled field,
Lunatic
© Adelaide Crapsey
Dost thou
Not feel them slip,
How cold! how cold! the moon's
Thin wavering finger-tips, along
Thy throat?
The Servant Girl Justified
© Jean de La Fontaine
LET us proceed, howe'er (our plan explained
A pretty servant-girl a man retain'd.
She pleas'd his eye, and presently he thought,
With ease she might to am'rous sports be brought;
He prov'd not wrong; the wench was blithe and gay,
A buxom lass, most able ev'ry way.
On The Death Of Damon. (Translated From Milton)
© William Cowper
Ye Nymphs of Himera (for ye have shed
Erewhile for Daphnis and for Hylas dead,
Upon Eckington Bridge, River Avon
© Sir Arthur Quiller-Couch
O pastoral heart of England! like a psalm
Of green days telling with a quiet beat-
Artesian Well
© Mikhail Alekseevich Kuzmin
In the feathergrass steppe
Sources lie buried,
The thirsty sun knows
Life isn't raspberries.
Ballades V - Of His Choice Of A Sepulchre
© Andrew Lang
Friend, or stranger kind, or lover,
Ah, fulfil a last behest,
Let me rest
Where the wide-winged hawk doth hover!
The Luck of Edenhall. From The German Of Uhland
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Of Edenhall, the youthful Lord
Bids sound the festal trumpet's call.
He rises at the banquet board,
And cries, 'mid the drunken revellers all,
"Now bring me the Luck of Edenhall!"
A Hunting Rhyme
© Adam Lindsay Gordon
THERE'S lots of refusing and falls and mishaps.
Who 's down on the Chestnut ? He 's hurt himself p'raps.
Oh, it 's Lindsay the Lanky,' says Hard-riding Bob,
He 's luckily saved Mr, Calcraft a job.'
Jack Cornstalk in his Teens
© Henry Lawson
If not in the Garden, he had in the ark,
To neither the beasts nor the passengers joy.
Full many a boyish and monkeyish lark,
The sandy-complexioned, the freckle-faced boy.
Ad Ministram
© William Makepeace Thackeray
Dear Lucy, you know what my wish is, -
I hate all your Frenchified fuss:
An Invective Written By Mr. George Chapman Against Mr. Ben Jonson
© George Chapman
Great, learned, witty Ben, be pleased to light
The world with that three-forked fire; nor fright
Sonnet To Mrs. Bates
© Helen Maria Williams
Oh, thou whose melody the heart obeys,
Thou who can'st all its subject passions move,
Hell On The Wabash
© Carl Sandburg
When country fiddlers held a convention in
Danville, the big money went to a barn dance
The Lodes That Under-lie
© Edwin Greenslade Murphy
O, calm and clear the liar lies
Who writes reports on mines;
Behold what knowledge deep and wise
His legend intertwines.
But ah, if he should own the lease
Supposed to hold the lode
The Squires Pew
© Jane Taylor
A SLANTING ray of evening light
Shoots through the yellow pane ;
It makes the faded crimson bright,
And gilds the fringe again :
The window's gothic frame-work falls
In oblique shadow on the walls.
To M.
© William Gay
IF in the summer of thy bright regard
For one brief season these poor Rhymes shall live
