History poems
/ page 44 of 51 /
All That's Past
© Walter de la Mare
Very old are the woods;
And the buds that break
Out of the brier's boughs,
When March winds wake,
Salts And Oils
© Philip Levine
In Havana in 1948 I ate fried dog
believing it was Peking duck. Later,
in Tampa I bunked with an insane sailor
who kept a .38 Smith and Wesson in his shorts.
Milkweed
© Philip Levine
Remember how unimportant
they seemed, growing loosely
in the open fields we crossed
on the way to school. We
Call It Music
© Philip Levine
Some days I catch a rhythm, almost a song
in my own breath. I'm alone here
in Brooklyn Heights, late morning, the sky
above the St. George Hotel clear, clear
The Manuscript of Saint Alexius
© Augusta Davies Webster
But, when my father thought my words took shape
of other than boy's prattle, he grew grave,
and answered me "Alexius, thou art young,
and canst not judge of duties; but know this
thine is to serve God, living in the world."
While History's Muse
© Thomas Moore
While History's Muse the memorial was keeping
Of all that the dark hand of Destiny weaves,
Beside her the Genius of Erin stood weeping,
For hers was the story that blotted the leaves.
The Pearl
© George Herbert
The Kingdom of heaven is like unto a merchant man,
seeking goodly pearls; who, when he had found one,
sold all that he had and bought it.Matthew 13.45
Studio Composition
© Joseph Mayo Wristen
Cup of WordsCrystal sphere sitting
Before child like statue
Words of Lennon mixed
In a clay Klee fish bowl
The Marriage of Heaven and Hell
© William Blake
Rintrah roars & shakes his fires in the burdend air;
Hungry clouds swag on the deep
In The Naked Bed, In Plato's Cave
© Delmore Schwartz
In the naked bed, in Plato's cave,
Reflected headlights slowly slid the wall,
Carpenters hammered under the shaded window,
Wind troubled the window curtains all night long,
The Ballad Of The Children Of The Czar
© Delmore Schwartz
1
The children of the Czar
Played with a bouncing ball
A Woman's Fancy
© Thomas Hardy
"Ah Madam; you've indeed come back here?
'Twas sad-your husband's so swift death,
And you away! You shouldn't have left him:
It hastened his last breath."
Canute the Great
© Marriott Edgar
I'll tell of Canute, King of England,
A native of Denmark was he,
His hobbies was roving and raiding
And paddling his feet in the sea.
Ghoti
© Heather McHugh
The gh comes from rough, the o from women's,
and the ti from unmentionables--presto:
there's the perfect English instance of
unlovablility--complete
The Chronicle Of The Drum
© William Makepeace Thackeray
"'Though Europe against me was arm'd,
Your chiefs and my people are true;
I still might have struggled with fortune,
And baffled all Europe with you.
A Hymn to the Name and Honour of the Admirable Saint Teresa
© Richard Crashaw
Farewell then, all the world, adieu!
Teresa is no more for you.
Farewell all pleasures, sports, and joys,
Never till now esteemed toys!
The Four Farrellys
© William Percy French
In a small hotel in London I was sitting down to dine.
When the waiter brought the register and asked me if I'd sign.
Questions of Travel
© Elizabeth Bishop
"Is it lack of imagination that makes us come
to imagined places, not just stay at home?
Or could Pascal have been not entirely right
about just sitting quietly in one's room?
The Eviction
© William Allingham
In early morning twilight, raw and chill,
Damp vapours brooding on the barren hill,
Through miles of mire in steady grave array
Threescore well-arm'd police pursue their way;
