All Poems
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My Lost Youth. (Birds Of Passage. Flight The First)
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Often I think of the beautiful town
That is seated by the sea;
Jefferson's Daughter
© Anonymous
"It is asserted, on the authority of an American Newspaper, that the
daughter of Thomas Jefferson, late President of the United States, was
sold at New Orleans for $1,000."-Morning Chronicle.
Mondnacht (Moonlit Night)
© Joseph Freiherr Von Eichendorff
Es war, als hätt der Himmel
Die Erde still geküßt,
Daß sie im Blütenschimmer
Von ihm nun träumen müßt.
The Negro's Complaint
© William Cowper
Forc'd from home and all its pleasures,
Afric's coast I left forlorn;
Sonnet XXXVI: Raising My Hopes
© Samuel Daniel
Raising my hopes on hills of high desire,
Thinking to scale the heaven of her heart,
Italy : 7. Marguerite De Tours
© Samuel Rogers
Now the grey granite, starting through the snow,
Discovered many a variegated moss
That to the pilgrim resting on his staff
Shadows our capes and islands; and ere long
Kranile
© Arthur Symons
Kranile surges before me in vision: her naked breasts,
The acrid odour of her sex, this perverted saint,
To Harriet St. Leger
© Frances Anne Kemble
I would I might be with thee, when the year
Begins to wane, and that thou walk'st alone
The Pleasures Of Love
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
I do not care for kisses. "Tis a debt
We paid for the first privilege of love.
These are the rains of April which have wet
Our fallow hearts and forced their germs to move.
Hame, Hame, Hame
© Allan Cunningham
When the flower is i' the bud and the leaf is on the tree,
The larks shall sing me hame in my ain countree;
Hame, hame, hame, O hame fain wad I be--
O hame, hame, hame, to my ain countree!
Evening
© Jeppe Aakjaer
Still, my heart, now sets the sun,
While the moor is resting,
Herds now homeward are begun,
And the stork is nesting.
Still, my heart, now sets the sun.
Thebais - Book One - part II
© Pablius Papinius Statius
A robe obscene was oer her shoulders thrown,
A dress by fates and furies worn alone. us
Possession
© Isabel Ecclestone Mackay
A YOUTH sat down on a wayside stone,
A pack on his back and a staff at his knee.
He whistled a tune which he called his own,
"It's a fine new tune, that tune!" said he.
Stars
© Emily Jane Brontë
Ah! why, because the dazzling sun
Restored our Earth to joy,
Have you departed, every one,
And left a desert sky ?
Pan Is Dead
© Ezra Pound
Pan is dead. Great Pan is dead.
Ah! bow your heads, ye maidens all,
And weave ye him his coronal.
