All Poems
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"I used to have dozens of handkerchiefs"
© Lesbia Harford
"I used to have dozens of handkerchiefs
Of finest lawn.
I used to have silk shirts and fine new suits."
He's like a faun
The Three Black Crows
© John Byrom
Two honest tradesmen meeting in the Strand,
One took the other briskly by the hand;
Farewell to Italy
© Walter Savage Landor
I LEAVE thee, beauteous Italy! no more
From the high terraces, at even-tide,
To look supine into thy depths of sky,
Thy golden moon between the cliff and me,
I'm sorry for the DeadToday
© Emily Dickinson
I'm sorry for the DeadToday
It's such congenial times
Old Neighbors have at fences
It's time o' year for Hay.
Mark The Concentrated Hazels That Enclose
© William Wordsworth
MARK the concentred hazels that enclose
Yon old grey Stone, protected from the ray
Of noontide suns:--and even the beams that play
And glance, while wantonly the rough wind blows,
Idyll X. The Two Workmen
© Theocritus
What now, poor o'erworked drudge, is on thy mind?
No more in even swathe thou layest the corn:
Thy fellow-reapers leave thee far behind,
As flocks a ewe that's footsore from a thorn.
By noon and midday what will be thy plight
If now, so soon, thy sickle fails to bite?
Sheep-Sheering
© James Thomson
In one diffusive band,
They drive the troubled flocks, by many a dog
Compell'd to where the mazy-running brook
Forms a deep pool; this bank abrupt and high,
Auf Weidersehen
© James Russell Lowell
The little gate was reached at last,
Half hid in lilacs down the lane;
She pushed it wide, and, as she past,
A wistful look she backward cast,
And said,--'_Auf wiedersehen!_'
Hard Knocks
© Edgar Albert Guest
I'm not the man to say that failure's sweet,
Nor tell a chap to laugh when things go wrong;
The Prodigy.
© Mary Barber
Then they throng to my House, and my Maid they beseech,
To say, if her Mistress had quite lost her Speech.
Nell readily own'd, what they heard was too true;
That To--day I was dumb, give the Devil his Due:
And frankly confess'd, were it always the Case,
No Servant could e'er have a happier Place.
John Keats
© Adelaide Crapsey
Eternity. Thou shalt
Pass sleeping, nor know
When sleeping ceases. Yet still
A little while thy breathing lasts,
Gradual is fainter: I
must listen close - the end."
It's Raining My Son
© Vahan Tekeyan
It's raining my son.... The autumn is wet,
Wet like the eyes of a poor beguiled love....
Go, close the window, and close the door,
Then come beside me, come, face me seated
Circus In Three Rings
© Sylvia Plath
In the circus tent of a hurricane
designed by a drunken god
my extravagant heart blows up again
in a rampage of champagne-colored rain
and the fragments whir like a weather vane
while the angels all applaud.
Loves Unity
© Alfred Austin
How can I tell thee when I love thee best?
In rapture or repose? how shall I say?
Phryne
© John Donne
Thy flattering picture, Phryne, is like thee,
Only in this, that you both painted be.
Willie's Question
© George MacDonald
I.
Willie speaks.
Is it wrong, the wish to be great,
For I do wish it so?
I have asked already my sister Kate;
She says she does not know.
Your Looks Have Touched My Soul
© Mathilde Blind
Your looks have touched my soul with bright
Ineffable emotion;
As moonbeams on a stormy night
Illume with transitory light
A seagull on her lonely flight
Across the lonely ocean.
The Laughter of Women by Mary-Sherman Willis: American Life in Poetry #168 Ted Kooser, U.S. Poet Lau
© Ted Kooser
So often, reading a poem can in itself feel like a thing overheard. Here, Mary-Sherman Willis of Virginia describes the feeling of being stilled by conversation, in this case barely audible and nearly indecipherable.
The Laughter of Women
From over the wall I could hear the laughter of women
in a foreign tongue, in the sun-rinsed air of the city.
They sat (so I thought) perfumed in their hats and their silks,
