All Poems

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Esther, A Sonnet Sequence: LIV

© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt

I must not speak of it. Even yet my heart
Is but a feeble thing to fret and cry,
And it might chance to wake and with a start,
When nights were still and stars were in the sky,

Guests

© Celia Thaxter

Sunflower tall and hollyhock, that wave in the

wind together,

The Killer

© Judith Wright

The day was clear as fire,
the birds sang frail as glass,
when thirsty I came to the creek
and fell by its side in the grass.

Sakal hee majhi

© Sant Tukaram

None see me off. Let those go home who will
Receive this blessing from a loosing heart
Let righteous deed secure you all good weal
Ye brought me up and gave me to one

Song Of The Spirits Of Spring

© Madison Julius Cawein

I.

Wafted o'er purple seas,

A Dream Of Resurrection

© Dinah Maria Mulock Craik

SO heavenly beautiful it lay,
It was less like a human corse
Than that fair shape in which perforce
A lost hope clothes itself alway.

The Magic Flower

© Edith Nesbit

THROUGH many days and many days

The seed of love lay hidden close;

Chessmen

© Kenneth Slessor

CHAFING on flags of ebony and pearl,
My paladins are waiting. Loops of smoke
Stoop slowly from the coffee-cups, and curl
In thin fantastic patterns down the room

From The Portuguese

© Edith Nesbit

And they from the village of youth
Run by our doorsteps laughing,
Calling, to shew each other
The new shawl, the new comb, the new fan,
The new rose, the new lover.

Epigram

© Francis Quarles

MY soul, sit thou a patient looker-on ;
Judge not the play before the play is done :
Her plot hath many changes ; every day
Speaks a new scene ; the last act crowns the play.

The Clever Demon

© Nikolai Stepanovich Gumilev

My old good friend, my faithful Demon,
Had sung the little song to me:
All night of hell the sailor sailed on,
But drowned by the morn in sea.

Psalm CXLVIII

© George Wither

Come, oh! come, with sacred lays,

Let us sound th' Almighty's praise;

To a Traveller

© Lionel Pigot Johnson

THE mountains, and the lonely death at last

Upon the lonely mountains: O strong friend!

Felix Antonius

To-day, my friend is seventy-five;
He tells his tale with no regret;
His brave old eyes are steadfast yet,
His heart the .lightest heart alive.

The Golden Island: Arran From Ayr

DEEP set in distant seas it lies;
The morning vapors float and fall,
The noonday clouds above it rise,
Then drop as white as virgin's pall.

Love Gives Value Even to Small Gifts

© Theocritus

For love the smallest gift commends;
All things are valued by our friends.

For The Fallen

With proud thanksgiving, a mother for her children,
England mourns for her dead across the sea.
Flesh of her flesh they were, spirit of her spirit,
Fallen in the cause of the free.