All Poems
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To Shakespeare
© Lord Alfred Douglas
For now thy praises have become too loud
On vulgar lips, and every yelping cur
Yaps thee a paean ; the whiles little men,
Not tall enough to worship in a crowd,
Spit their small wits at thee. Ah ! better then
The broken shrine, the lonely worshipper.
Enlisted Today
© Anonymous
I know the sun shines, and the lilacs are blowing,
And the summer sends kisses by beautiful May -
The Vow Of Washington
© John Greenleaf Whittier
The sword was sheathed: in April's sun
Lay green the fields by Freedom won;
And severed sections, weary of debates,
Joined hands at last and were United States.
The Question
© Rudyard Kipling
Brethren, how shall it fare with me
When the war is laid aside,
If it be proven that I am he
For whom a world has died?
A Man Perishing in the Snow: From Whence Reflections are Raised on the Miseries of Life.
© James Thomson
As thus the snows arise; and foul and fierce,
All winter drives along the darken'd air;
In his own loose-revolving fields, the swain
Disaster'd stands; sees other hills ascend,
To a Skylark
© William Wordsworth
Ethereal minstrel! pilgrim of the sky!
Dost thou despise the earth where cares abound?
Poetry Everywhere
© William Schwenck Gilbert
What time the poet hath hymned
The writhing maid, lithe-limbed,
Quivering on amaranthine asphodel,
How can he paint her woes,
Knowing, as well he knows,
That all can be set right with calomel?
An Epistle To Robert Lloyd, Esq.
© William Cowper
'Tis not that I design to rob
Thee of thy birthright, gentle Bob,--
The Poet And The Muse
© Alfred Austin
Whither, and whence, and why hast fled?
Thou art dumb, my muse; thou art dumb, thou art dead,
As a waterless stream, as a leafless tree.
What have I done to banish thee?
While I Listen to Thy Voice
© Edmund Waller
While I listen to thy voice,
Chloris, I feel my life decay;
That powerful noise
Calls my flitting soul away.
Oh! suppress that magic sound,
Which destroys without a wound.
Sonnet 112: "Your love and pity doth the impression fill,..."
© William Shakespeare
Your love and pity doth the impression fill,
Which vulgar scandal stamped upon my brow;
When Mother Combed My Hair
© James Whitcomb Riley
When Memory, with gentle hand,
Has led me to that foreign land
The Bonnie House O' Airly
© Andrew Lang
It fell on a day, and a bonnie summer day,
When the corn grew green and yellow,
That there fell out a great dispute
Between Argyle and Airly.
Wife
© Julian Tuwim
His eyes are misted. He takes one more dram.
He kneels down beside me and lays his head on my arm.
It is only then that I learn for the first time who I am.
To The Lord Chancellor
© Percy Bysshe Shelley
I.
Thy country's curse is on thee, darkest crest
Of that foul, knotted, many-headed worm
Which rends our Mothers bosomPriestly Pest!
Masked Resurrection of a buried Form!
On Happiness
© James Thomson
Warm'd by the summer sun's meridian ray,
As underneath a spreading oak I lay
Contemplating the mighty load of woe,
In search of bliss that mortals undergo,
Sonnet XV: The Photograph
© Christopher Pearse Cranch
Phoebus Apollo, from Olympus driven,
Lived at Admetus, tending herds and flocks:
