All Poems
/ page 898 of 3210 /Contrary Sary
© Edgar Albert Guest
Theres no sense arguin' with 'em," says Ebenezer Gates,
You can't convince the women that they ain't fit fer votes;
There's Sary got the notion that she's as good as man,
An' I can't show her diff'runt, an' no man livin' can.
She's most bnreasonubbel. 'Now, I suppose,' says she,
'If I got drunk each evenin' ye'd think lots more o' me?'
Petrarca's Retreat
© Luigi Alamanni
Vaucluse, ye hills and glades and shady vale,
So long the noble Tuscan bard's retreat,
Written From Dublin, To A Lady In The Country.
© Mary Barber
A wretch, in smoaky Dublin pent,
Who rarely sees the Firmament,
You graciously invite, to view
The Sun's enliv'ning Rays with you;
To change the Town for flow'ry Meads,
And sing beneath the sylvan Shades.
Poets Corner
© Alfred Austin
I stand within the Abbey walls,
Where soft the slanting sunlight falls
In gleams of mellow grace:
The organ swells, the anthem soars,
And waves of prayerful music pours
Throughout the solemn space.
Pity, We Were A Good Invention
© Yehuda Amichai
They amputated
Your thighs from my waist.
For me they are always
Surgeons. All of them.
Be Lost In The Call
© Mewlana Jalaluddin Rumi
Reality replied: O prisoner of time,
I was a secret treasure of kindness and generosity,
and I wished this treasure to be known,
so I created a mirror: its shining face, the heart;
its darkened back, the world;
The back would please you if you've never seen the face.
Elegy XI. He Complains How Soon the Pleasing Novelty of Life Is Over
© William Shenstone
Ah me, my Friend! it will not, will not last,
This fairy scene, that cheats our youthful eyes;
The charm dissolves; th' aerial music's past;
The banquet ceases, and the vision flies.
Another On The Same (Being The University Carrier)
© John Milton
Here lieth one who did most truly prove,
That he could never die while he could move,
So hung his destiny never to rot
While he might still jogg on, and keep his trot,
Sunday
© George MacDonald
A dim, vague shrinking haunts my soul,
My spirit bodeth ill-
As some far-off restraining bank
Had burst, and waters, many a rank,
Were marching on my hill;
A Book of Dreams: Part I
© George MacDonald
I lay and dreamed. The master came
In his old woven dress;
I stood in joy, and yet in shame,
Oppressed with earthliness.
Three-Mountain Pass
© Ho Xuan Huong
Gentlemen, lords, who could refuse, though weary
and shaky in his knees, to mount once more?
The Gold Givers
© Edgar Albert Guest
Oh, some shall stand in glory's light when all the strife is done,
And many a mother there shall say, "For truth I gave my son!"
But I shall stand in silence then and hear the stories brave,
For I must answer at the last that gold is all I gave.
Prayer For Lightning
© Amy Lowell
My corn is green with red tassels,
I am praying to the lightning to ripen my corn,
I am praying to the thunder which carries the lightning.
Corn is sweet where lightning has fallen.
I pray to the six-coloured clouds.
Kraj Majales (King Of May)
© Allen Ginsberg
And the Communists have nothing to offer but fat cheeks and eyeglasses and
lying policemen
Red Night
© Robert Laurence Binyon
There, there is all unsealed:
Terror and hope, ecstasy and despair
Their apparition yield,
While still through kindled street and shadowy square
The faces pass, the uncounted faces crowd,--
Rages, lamentings, joys, in masks of flesh concealed.
Der Fehler Der Natur An Hr. M.
© Gotthold Ephraim Lessing
Freund! du erforschest die Natur.
Sprich! Ists nicht wahr, sie spielt nicht nur,
Mother, I Cannot Mind My Wheel
© Sappho
Mother, I cannot mind my wheel;
My fingers ache, my lips are dry;
Oh! if you felt the pain I feel!
But oh, who ever felt as I!
A Sonnet To Heavenly Beauty
© Joachim du Bellay
There is the joy whereto each soul aspires,
And there the rest that all the world desires,
And there is love, and peace, and gracious mirth;
And there in the most highest heavens shalt thou
Behold the Very Beauty, whereof now
Thou worshippest the shadow upon earth.
Sister Rosa: A Ballad
© Percy Bysshe Shelley
III.
But that hour is past;
And that hour was the last
Of peace to the dark Monks brain.
Bitter tears, from his eyes, gushed silent and fast;
And he strove to suppress them in vain.