All Poems

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3210

Churchill's Grave: A Fact Literally Rendered

© George Gordon Byron

I stood beside the grave of him who blazed

The comet of a season, and I saw

"I Don't Like Flowers..."

© Anna Akhmatova

I don't like flowers - they do remind me often
Of funerals, of weddings and of balls;
Their presence on tables for a dinner calls.

The Disquieting Muses

© Sylvia Plath

Mother, mother, what ill-bred aunt

Or what disfigured and unsightly

Sonnet

© Joachim du Bellay

Say, canst thou number all the stars that gleam

Along the silent air in dazzling light,

The White Moth

© Sir Arthur Quiller-Couch

IF a leaf rustled, she would start:

And yet she died, a year ago.

Where?

© Heinrich Heine

Where shall I, of wandering weary,
Find my resting-place at last?
Under drooping southern palm-trees?
Under limes the Rhine sweeps past?

Broken Vase

© Rene Francois Armand Prudhomme

The vase where this verbena is dying
was cracked by a blow from a fan.
It must have barely brushed it,
for it made no sound.

The Dream Of Roderick

© Madison Julius Cawein

Below, the tawny Tagus swept
Past royal gardens, breathing balm;
Upon his couch the monarch slept;
The world was still; the night was calm.

The Triumph Of Heavenly Love Desired

© William Cowper

Ah! reign, wherever man is found!
My spouse, beloved and divine!
Then I am rich, and I abound,
When every human heart is thine.

How to Accompany The Moon Without Walking

© Conrad Aiken

Harsh, harsh, the maram grass on the salt dune,
seen by the crickets eye against the harbor moon,
anchor-frost and seaward, the lighthouse moon

The Logical Vegetarian

© Gilbert Keith Chesterton

You will find me drinking rum,
Like a sailor in a slum,
You will find me drinking beer like a Bavarian
You will find me drinking gin
In the lowest kind of inn
Because I am a rigid Vegetarian.

Lines Addressed to Miss Theodora Jane Cowper, On Himself

© William Cowper

William was once a bashful youth,
His modesty was such,
That one might say, to say the truth,
He rather had too much.

Where Can The Heart Be Hidden In The Ground

Where can the heart be hidden in the ground

And be at peace, and be at peace forever,

Author's Apology For His Book

© John Bunyan

WHEN at the first I took my pen in hand

Thus for to write, I did not understand

Under The Skin Of Men

Did you ever sit down and talk with men

In a serious sort of a way,

THE LITTLE-NECK CLAM

A modern verse-sequence, showing how a native American subject, strictly realistic, may be treated in various manners adapted to the requirements of different magazines, thus combining Art-for-Art's-Sake with Writing-for-the-Market. Read at the First Dinner of the American Periodical Publishers' Association, in Washington, April, 1904.