All Poems
/ page 905 of 3210 /
A Christmas Carol
© Alfred Austin
Hark! In the air, around, above,
The Angelic Music soars and swells,
And, in the Garden that I love,
I hear the sound of Christmas Bells.
On A Young Lady
© Hannah More
Go, peaceful shade! exchange for sin and care
The glorious palm which patient suff'rers wear!
The Last Elegy Of The Third Book Of Tibullus
© Henry James Pye
Propitious Bacchus comeso round thy brow
Be with the mystic vine the ivy wove;
Palm Tree
© Rabindranath Tagore
Palm-tree: single-legged giant,
topping other trees,
peering at the firmament -
It longs to pierce the black cloud-ceiling
and fly away, away,
if only it had wings.
The Human Sacrifice
© John Greenleaf Whittier
I.
FAR from his close and noisome cell,
By grassy lane and sunny stream,
Blown clover field and strawberry dell,
Queen Mab: Part I.
© Percy Bysshe Shelley
FAIRY
'Spirit! who hast dived so deep;
Spirit! who hast soared so high;
Thou the fearless, thou the mild,
Accept the boon thy worth hath earned,
Ascend the car with me!'
The Highly Respectable Gondolier
© William Schwenck Gilbert
I stole the Prince, and I brought him here,
And left him, gaily prattling
With a highly respectable Gondolier,
Who promised the Royal babe to rear,
And teach him the trade of a timoneer
With his own beloved bratling.
Purpose
© Robert Herrick
No wrath of men, or rage of seas,
Can shake a just man's purposes;
No threats of tyrants, or the grim
Visage of them can alter him;
But what he doth at first intend,
That he holds firmly to the end.
Thora
© Celia Thaxter
Come under my cloak, my darling!
Thou little Norwegian main!
Nor wind, nor rain, nor rolling sea
Shall chill or make thee afraid.
Why Art Thou Thus Cast Down, My Heart?
© Hans Sachs
Why art thou thus cast down, my heart?
Why troubled, why dost mourn apart,
O'er nought but earthly wealth?
Trust in thy God, be not afraid,
He is thy Friend who all things made.
In November by Lisel Mueller: American Life in Poetry #85 Ted Kooser, U.S. Poet Laureate 2004-2006
© Ted Kooser
The Illinois poet, Lisel Mueller, is one of our country's finest writers, and the following lines, with their grace and humility, are representative of her poems of quiet celebration.
Cornish Wind
© Arthur Symons
There is a wind in Cornwall that I know
From any other wind, because it smells
Morning
© Nikolay Alekseyevich Nekrasov
You're unhappy, sick at heart:
Oh, I know it-here such sickness isn't rare.
Nature can but mirror
The surrounding poverty.
Rousseau
© Gamaliel Bradford
That odd, fantastic ass, Rousseau,
Declared himself unique.
How men persist in doing so,
Puzzles me more than Greek.
Ode To Lycoris. May 1817
© William Wordsworth
I
AN age hath been when Earth was proud
Of lustre too intense
To be sustained; and Mortals bowed
Progression
© Francis Scarfe
See that satan pollarding a tree,
That geometric man straightening a road:
Surely such passions are perverse and odd
That violate windows and set the north wind free.
Sweet May
© Denis Florence MacCarthy
The summer is come!-the summer is come!
With its flowers and its branches green,
