All Poems
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Written in the Highlands of Scotland
© Samuel Rogers
Blue was the loch, the clouds were gone,
Ben-Lomond in his glory shone,
When, Luss, I left thee; when the breeze
Bore me from thy silver sands,
Beauty Rothraut (From Moricke)
© George Meredith
What is the name of King Ringang's daughter?
Rohtraut, Beauty Rohtraut!
The Christian
© John Crowe Ransom
I HEARD a story of a sailing man.
He was a surly sort of mariner,
He used to swear at all the seven seas,
And rode them dauntless up and down the earth.
Kalamazoo
© Vachel Lindsay
Once, in the city of Kalamazoo,
The gods went walking, two and two,
With the friendly phoenix, the stars of Orion,
The speaking pony and singing lion.
For in Kalamazoo in a cottage apart
Lived the girl with the innocent heart.
I Grieved For Buonaparte
© William Wordsworth
I GRIEVED for Buonaparte, with a vain
And an unthinking grief! The tenderest mood
Of that Man's mind--what can it be? what food
Fed his first hopes? what knowledge could 'he' gain?
Death Of A Favorite Chamber Maid
© George Moses Horton
O death, thy power I own,
Whose mission was to rush,
And snatch the rose, so quickly blown,
Down from its native bush;
The flower of beauty doom'd to pine,
Ascends from this to worlds divine.
The Voyage Of St. Brendan A.D. 545 - Ara Of The Saints
© Denis Florence MacCarthy
Hearing how blessed Enda lived apart,
Amid the sacred caves of Ara-mhor,
And how beneath his eye, spread like a chart,
Lay all the isles of that remotest shore;
The Four Roses
© John Crowe Ransom
FOUR sisters sitting in one house,
I said, these roses on a stem
With bosoms bare. But wayfaring
I went and ravished one of them.
The Adoration
© Arthur Symons
Why have you brought me myrrh
And frankincense and gold?
Lay at the feet of her
Whom you have loved of old
Your frankincense and gold?
The Telegram
© Thomas Hardy
'O He's suffering - maybe dying - and I not there to aid,
And smooth his bed and whisper to him! Can I nohow go?
Only the nurse's brief twelve words thus hurriedly conveyed,
As by stealth, to let me know.
The Dance To Death. Act II
© Emma Lazarus
LANDGRAVE.
Who tells thee of my son's love for the Jewess?
A Letter of Advice
© Winthrop Mackworth Praed
You tell me you're promised a lover,
My own Araminta, next week;
The Village Green
© Ann Taylor
ON the cheerful village green,
Skirted round with houses small,
All the boys and girls are seen,
Playing there with hoop and ball.
Elegy XXIII. Reflections Suggested By His Situation
© William Shenstone
Born near the scene for Kenelm's fate renown'd,
I take my plaintive reed, and range the grove,
And raise my lay, and bid the rocks resound
The savage force of empire, and of love.
Abraham Lincoln Is My Name
© Abraham Lincoln
Abraham Lincoln is my name
And with my pen I wrote the same
I wrote in both hast and speed
and left it here for fools to read
