All Poems
/ page 835 of 3210 /
If Only I Were Santa Claus
© Edgar Albert Guest
If only I were Santa Claus and you were still a boy,
I'd find the chimney to your heart and fill it full of joy ;
"The Undying One" - Canto I
© Caroline Norton
"My parch'd lips strove for utterance--but no,
I could but listen still, with speechless woe:
I stretch'd my quivering arms--'Away! away!'
She cried, 'and let me humbly kneel, and pray
For pardon; if, indeed, such pardon be
For having dared to love--a thing like thee!'
A Road Song
© Madison Julius Cawein
It's-Oh, for the hills, where the wind's some one
With a vagabond foot that follows!
Morn
© Helen Hunt Jackson
In what a strange bewilderment do we
Awake each morn from out the brief night's sleep.
The Burial Of The Poet
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
In the old churchyard of his native town,
And in the ancestral tomb beside the wall,
Here a riddle has drawn a strange nailmark
© Boris Pasternak
Here a riddle has drawn a strange nailmark. To sleep now!
I'll reread, understand with the light of the sun,
But until I am wakened, to touch the beloved
As I do has been given to none.
In The Tree House At Night
© James Dickey
And now the green household is dark.
The half-moon completely is shining
For OthersAnd His Wife
© Edgar Albert Guest
HE took off his hat to the woman next door,
But he wouldn't do that for his wife;
A Lament
© Richard Monckton Milnes
I hear them upbraid you,--they mingle your name
With lightness and folly and almost with shame;
And they, who have crouched at the bend of your brow,
With familiar indifference prate of you now.
The Call
© Francis William Bourdillon
Hark! 'tis the rush of the horses,
The crash of the galloping gun!
The Dear Old Flag
© Julia A Moore
Oh! we love that dear old flag,
That our forefathers gave
Over one hundred years ago, boys,
They once stood under that dear flag,
But now they are in their graves,
Sleeping their everlasting sleep, boys.
Horace, Epist. I, VII Imitation Of Horace To Lord Oxford
© Jonathan Swift
Harley, the nation's great support,
Returning home one day from court,
His mind with public cares possest,
All Europe's business in his breast,
Humbled And Silenced By Mercy
© John Newton
Once perishing in blood I lay,
Creatures no help could give,
But Jesus passed me in the way,
He saw, and bid me live.
The Christening
© John Jay Chapman
THE evening wore on with the Judge in the chair
While song after song sought the rafter;
We crowned him with holly to match his white hair
And redden the bloom of our laughter:
May Colven
© Andrew Lang
False Sir John a wooing came
To a maid of beauty fair;
May Colven was this lady's name,
Her father's only heir.
Ye Agents
© Wilcox Ella Wheeler
These agent men! these agent men!
We hear the dreaded step again,
We see a stranger at the door;
And brace ourselves for war once more.
He bows and smiles. "Walk in," we say,
The House of Clay
© Dinah Maria Mulock Craik
THERE was a house, a house of clay,
Wherein the inmate sat all day,
