All Poems
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An Die Leier
© Gotthold Ephraim Lessing
Toene, frohe Leier,
Toene Lust und Wein!
Toene, sanfte Leier,
Toene Liebe drein!
To A Lady, With Falconer's 'Shipwreck'
© Samuel Taylor Coleridge
Oh! not by Cam or Isis, famous streams
In arched groves, the youthful poet's choice;
Nor while half-listening, mid delicious dreams,
To harp and song from lady's hand and voice;
Late, by Myself
© Mewlana Jalaluddin Rumi
Late, by myself, in the boat of myself,
no light and no land anywhere,
cloudcover thick. I try to stay
just above the surface,
yet I'm already under
and living with the ocean
Sonnet XXVI
© Fernando António Nogueira Pessoa
The world is woven all of dream and error
And but one sureness in our truth may lie--
The Meaning Of Death
© Allen Tate
Time, fall no more.
Let that be life time falls no more. The threat
Of time we in our own courage have forsworn.
Let light fall, there shall be eternal light
And all the light shall on our heads be worn
Love Rides Disguised
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
What name is his, thy knight's? Nay, ask it not.
If fate should hear thee, child, what griefs might come.
Love rides disguised. He fears a counterplot
For his own plot of joy in heathendom.
Is There A Santa Claus?
© Edgar Albert Guest
Is there a Santa Claus?" she asked,
"Come, daddy, tell me true;
Picken O Scroff
© William Barnes
Oh! the wood wer a-vell'd in the copse,
An' the moss-bedded primrwose did blow;
Conceits
© Arlo Bates
THY laughs a song an oriole trilled,
Romping in glee the sky,
Sunshine in lucent drops distilled,
And showered from on high.
Will And I
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
I.
WE roam the hills together,
In the golden summer weather,
Will and I:
Impromtu
© John Gould Fletcher
My mind is a puddle in the street reflecting green Sirius;
In thick dark groves trees huddle lifting their branches like
Uncalled
© Madison Julius Cawein
As one, who, journeying westward with the sun,
Beholds at length from the up-towering hills,
White Sunshine
© Lesbia Harford
The sun's my fire.
Golden, from a magnificence of blue,
Should be its hue.
But woolly clouds,
On The Death Of Mr. Fox
© George Gordon Byron
THE FOLLOWING ILLIBERAL IMPROMPTU APPEARED IN A MORNING PAPER:
'Our nation's foes lament on Fox's death,
But bless the hour when PITT resign'd his breath:
These feelings wide, let sense and truth unclue,
We give the palm where Justice points its due.'
Booker T. Washington
© Paul Laurence Dunbar
The word is writ that he who runs may read.
What is the passing breath of earthly fame?
