All Poems
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The Young Greek Odalisque
© Rosanna Eleanor Leprohon
Mid silken cushions, richly wrought, a young Greek girl reclined,
And fairer form the harems walls had neer before enshrined;
Mid all the young and lovely ones who round her clustered there,
With glowing cheeks and sparkling eyes, she shone supremely fair.
A Song In The Night: I would I were an angel strong,
© George MacDonald
I would I were an angel strong,
An angel of the sun, hasting along!
The Night Cometh
© Aline Murray Kilmer
MY garden walks were smooth and green
And edged with box trees left and right,
Sonnets to the Sundry Notes of Music
© William Shakespeare
I.
IT was a lording's daughter, the fairest one of three,
That liked of her master as well as well might be,
Till looking on an Englishman, the fair'st that eye could see,
Her fancy fell a-turning.
Loveis anterior to Life
© Emily Dickinson
Loveis anterior to Life
Posteriorto Death
Initial of Creation, and
The Exponent of Earth
A Fable
© Wilcox Ella Wheeler
Some cawing Crows, a hooting Owl,
A Hawk, a Canary, an old Marsh-Fowl,
One day all meet together
To hold a caucus and settle the fate
Lament
© Sylvia Plath
The sting of bees took away my father
who walked in a swarming shroud of wings
and scorned the tick of the falling weather.
Horace II, 3.
© Eugene Field
Be tranquil, Dellius, I pray;
For though you pine your life away
With dull complaining breath,
Or speed with song and wine each day--
Still, still your doom is death.
A Souless Singer
© Alfred Austin
Hail! throstle, by thy ringing voice descried,
Not by the wanderings of the tuneless wing!
Now once again where forkëd boughs divide,
Lost in green leafage thou dost perch and sing:
Trilling, shrilling, far and wide,
``It is Spring.''
Fragment Of The Elegy On The Death Of Bion
© Percy Bysshe Shelley
From the Greek of Moschus.
Ye Dorian woods and waves, lament aloud,--
Augment your tide, O streams, with fruitless tears,
For the beloved Bion is no more.
The Aesthete
© William Schwenck Gilbert
If you're anxious for to shine in the high aesthetic line, as a man
of culture rare,
The Modest Jazz-Bird
© Vachel Lindsay
The Jazz-bird sings a barnyard song
A cock-a-doodle bray,
A jingle-bells, a boiler works,
A he-man's roundelay.
In White
© Robert Frost
What had that flower to do with being white,
The blue prunella every child's delight.
What brought the kindred spider to that height?
(Make we no thesis of the miller's plight.)
What but design of darkness and of night?
Design, design! Do I use the word aright?
