All Poems

/ page 816 of 3210 /

Order by :

1
. . .
811
812
813
814
815
816
817
818
819
820
821
. . .
3210

A Fact, And An Imagination, Or, Canute And Alfred, On The Seashore

© William Wordsworth

THE Danish Conqueror, on his royal chair,
Mustering a face of haughty sovereignty,
To aid a covert purpose, cried--"O ye
Approaching Waters of the deep, that share

Hir wordes spoken been so sighingly
And with so pitous cheere and contenance,
That every wight that meeneth trewely
Deemeth that they in herte han swich greuance.
They sayn so importable is hir penance

To My Wife

© Archibald Lampman

Though fancy and the might of rhyme,
That turneth like the tide,
Have borne me many a musing time,
Beloved, from thy side.

My Light Thou Art

© John Wilmot

My light thou art, without thy glorious sight
My eyes are darkened with eternal night;
My Love, thou art my way, my life, my light.

On Cutting Down The Thorn At Market-Hill

© Jonathan Swift

At Market-Hill, as well appears
By chronicle of ancient date,
There stood for many hundred years
A spacious thorn before the gate.

The Meeting. (Birds Of Passage. Flight The Third)

© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

After so long an absence
At last we meet agin:
Does the meeting give us pleasure,
Or does it give us pain?

The Labourer

© George Meredith

For a Heracles in his fighting ire there is never the glory that

follows

Saint Florent-le-Vieil

© Louise Imogen Guiney

Dear hill deflowered in the frantic war!
In my day, rather, have I seen thee blest
With pastoral roofs to break the darker crest
Of apple-woods by many-islèd Loire,
And fires that still suffuse the lower west,
Blanching the beauty of thine evening star.

For Four Guilds: I. The Glass-Stainers

© Gilbert Keith Chesterton

To every Man his Mystery,
A trade and only one:
The masons make the hives of men,
The domes of grey or dun,
But we have wrought in rose and gold
The houses of the sun.

The Over-Song Of Niagara

© John Daniel Logan

WHY stand ye, nurslings of Earth, before my gates,

Mouthing aloud my glory and my thrall?

Forebearance

© Ralph Waldo Emerson

Hast thou named all the birds without a gun;

Loved the wood-rose, and left it on its stalk;

The Fop's Blouse

© Vladimir Mayakovsky

I will sew myself black trousers
from the velvet of my voice.
And from three yards of sunset, a yellow blouse.
Along the world's main street, along its glossy lanes,
I will saunter with the gait of Don Juan, a fop.

An Informal Prayer -- The Prayer Of Cyrus Brown

The proper way for a man to pray
said Deacon Lemuel Keyes,
and the only proper attitude
is down upon his knees.

St. Ame

A SUNNY glade below the bridge;

Clear shadows branching through a stream;

Sonnet XXVI: I Lived With Visions

I lived with visions for my company

Instead of men and women, years ago,

Sixth Sunday After Trinity

© John Keble

When bitter thoughts, of conscience born,

With sinners wake at morn,

Montefiore

I SAWt was in a dream, the other night
A man whose hair with age was thin and white;
One hundred years had bettered by his birth,
And still his step was firm, his eye was bright.