All Poems

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The Army of Death

© Charles Hamilton Sorley

When you see millions of the mouthless dead

Across your dreams in pale battalions go,

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Our Bog Is Dood

© Stevie Smith

Our Bog is dood, our Bog is dood,
They lisped in accents mild,
But when I asked them to explain
They grew a little wild.
How do you know your Bog is dood
My darling little child?

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Jubilate Agno (excerpt)

© Christopher Smart

For I will consider my Cat Jeoffry.

For he is the servant of the Living God duly and daily serving him.

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Weirdos

© Sasha Skenderija

Deep and unreachable in their darknesses,
capriciously childish and tender
when we write to each other,
while we talk about one of us
who is not around.

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Sonnet XXXI: With How Sad Steps, O Moon

© Sir Philip Sidney

With how sad steps, O Moon, thou climb'st the skies!

How silently, and with how wan a face!

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Sir Philip Sidney - Astrophel and Stella: XXIII

© Sir Philip Sidney

The curious wits, seeing dull pensiveness

Bewray itself in my long-settl'd eyes,

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Astrophel and Stella: XXXIX

© Sir Philip Sidney

Come Sleep! O Sleep, the certain knot of peace,

The baiting-place of wit, the balm of woe,

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Astrophel and Stella: XXXIII

© Sir Philip Sidney

I might!--unhappy word--O me, I might,

And then would not, or could not, see my bliss;

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Astrophel and Stella: XX

© Sir Philip Sidney

Fly, fly, my friends, I have my death wound, fly!

See there that boy, that murd'ring boy, I say,

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Astrophel and Stella: XV

© Sir Philip Sidney

You that do search for every purling spring

Which from the ribs of old Parnassus flows,

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Astrophel and Stella: XLI

© Sir Philip Sidney

Having this day my horse, my hand, my lance

Guided so well that I obtain'd the prize,

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Astrophel and Stella: XCII

© Sir Philip Sidney

Be your words made, good sir, of Indian ware,

That you allow me them by so small rate?

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Astrophel and Stella: LXXI

© Sir Philip Sidney

Who will in fairest book of nature know

How virtue may best lodg'd in beauty be,

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Astrophel and Stella: LXIV

© Sir Philip Sidney

No more, my dear, no more these counsels try;

Oh, give my passions leave to run their race;

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Astrophel and Stella: III

© Sir Philip Sidney

Let dainty wits cry on the sisters nine,

That, bravely mask'd, their fancies may be told;

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Astrophel and Stella VII: WhenNature Made her Chief Work

© Sir Philip Sidney

When Nature made her chief work, Stella's eyes,

In colour black why wrapt she beams so bright?

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Astrophel and Stella LXXXIV: HIGHWAY

© Sir Philip Sidney

Highway, since you my chief Parnassus be,

And that my Muse, to some ears not unsweet,

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Astrophel and Stella

© Sir Philip Sidney


Doubt you to whom my Muse these notes entendeth,
Which now my breast, surcharg'd, to musick lendeth!
To you, to you, all song of praise is due,
Only in you my song begins and endeth.

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Written among the Euganean Hills North Italy

© Percy Bysshe Shelley

MANY a green isle needs must be


In the deep wide sea of Misery,

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To the Night

© Percy Bysshe Shelley

SWIFTLY walk over the western wave


Spirit of Night!