All Poems
/ page 929 of 3210 /
Ode - So dear my Lucio is to me
© William Shenstone
So dear my Lucio is to me,
So well our minds and tempers blend,
That seasons may for ever flee,
And ne'er divide me from my friend;
But let the favour'd boy forbear
To tempt with love my only fair.
The Lout
© John Clare
For Sunday's play he never makes excuse,
But plays at taw, and buys his Spanish juice.
Written In A Quarrel
© William Cowper
Think, Delia, with what cruel haste
Our fleeting pleasures move,
Nor heedless in sorrow waste
The moments due to love;
Rebel Color-Bearers At Shiloh
© Herman Melville
Perish their Cause! but mark the men--
Mark the planted statues, then
Draw trigger on them if you can.
A Vision Of Christ
© George Essex Evans
Then from the purple dark I saw arise,
Silent, the pale form of the Nazarene,
With deathless light of message in His eyes,
And that vast human pity in His mien,
Purer than purest depths of summer skies,
Not less unfathomed and not less serene.
Lines On Observing A Blossom On The First Of February, 1796
© Samuel Taylor Coleridge
Sweet flower! that peeping from thy russet stem
Unfoldest timidly, (for in strange sort
This dark, frieze-coated, hoarse, teeth-chattering month
Hath borrowed Zephyr's voice, and gazed upon thee
"Dearest, dearest"
© Lesbia Harford
Dearest, dearest,
Bother the slow hours
That hold and keep me
From the leafy bowers
Sorrows of Werther
© William Makepeace Thackeray
Werther had a love for Charlotte
Such as words could never utter;
Would you know how first he met her?
She was cutting bread and butter.
A Song Of Australia
© Roderick Flanagan
Joy fills to-day my bosom, and it flies through every vein,
It comes as on the parched plain descends midsummer rain;
It fills my soul with gladness, e'en to aerial beings new,
As sunbeams fall on budding flowers when morning gilds the dew.
John Winter
© Robert Laurence Binyon
What ails John Winter, that so oft
Silent he sits apart?
The neighbours cast their looks on him;
But deep he hides his heart.
The Lion's Whelps
© George Essex Evans
There is scarlet on his forehead,
There are scars across his face,
How Long Wilt Thou Love Me?
© Dora Sigerson Shorter
How long wilt thou love me, O my love?
"As long as life may be."
Turkey?
© Sheldon Allan Silverstein
Only ate one drumstick
At the picnic dance this summer,
Just one little drumstick--
They say I couldn't be dumber.
Dawnlight On The Sea
© Ada Cambridge
When I kneel down the dawn is only breaking;
Sleep fetters still the brown wings of the lark;
The wind blows pure and cool, for day is waking,
But stars are scattered still about the dark.
Cold are the Crabs
© Edward Lear
Cold are the crabs that crawl on yonder hills,
Colder the cucumbers that grow beneath,
A Dirge of Joy
© Henry Lawson
Oh, I dance on the Liberal Ladys grave and the Labour Womans, too;
And the grave of the Female lie and shriek, with a dance that is wild and new.
And my only regret in this song-a-let as I dance over dale and hill,
Is the Yarn-of-the-Wife and the Tale-of-the-Girl that never a war can kill.
Tide Turning
© John Frederick Nims
Through salt marsh, grassy channel where the shark's
A rumor &mdash lean, alongside &mdash rides out boat;
For of us off with picnic-things and wine.
Pasty tufty clutters of the mud called pluff,
Sun on the ocean tingles like a kiss.
About the fourth hour of the falling tide.
To A Voice That Had Been Lost
© Samuel Rogers
Vane, quid affectas faciem mihi ponere, pictor?
Aeris et lingua sum filia;
Et, si vis similem pingere, pinge sonum. ~ Ausonius.
To Hilda Of Her Roses
© Grace Hazard Conkling
ENOUGH has been said about roses
To fill thirty thick volumes;
There are as many songs about roses
As there are roses in the world
That includes Mexico . . . the Azores… Oregon…
