Home poems

 / page 445 of 465 /
star nullstar nullstar nullstar nullstar null

Evening Solace

© Charlotte Bronte

THE human heart has hidden treasures,
In secret kept, in silence sealed;­
The thoughts, the hopes, the dreams, the pleasures,
Whose charms were broken if revealed.

star nullstar nullstar nullstar nullstar null

The Teacher's Monologue

© Charlotte Bronte

The room is quiet, thoughts alone
People its mute tranquillity;
The yoke put on, the long task done,­
I am, as it is bliss to be,

star nullstar nullstar nullstar nullstar null

Mementos

© Charlotte Bronte

I scarcely think, for ten long years,
A hand has touched these relics old;
And, coating each, slow-formed, appears,
The growth of green and antique mould.

star nullstar nullstar nullstar nullstar null

Regret

© Charlotte Bronte

Long ago I wished to leave
" The house where I was born; "
Long ago I used to grieve,
My home seemed so forlorn.

star nullstar nullstar nullstar nullstar null

Parting

© Charlotte Bronte

THERE'S no use in weeping,
Though we are condemned to part:
There's such a thing as keeping
A remembrance in one's heart:

star nullstar nullstar nullstar nullstar null

Love Song to My Neighborhoods

© Kelli Russell Agodon

Sometimes I stroll through forests
just sprayed for the gypsy moths. I throw a rock
into the bushes to distract the hunters. Deer
me. I am writing to my hazards.

star nullstar nullstar nullstar nullstar null

Snapshot of a Lump

© Kelli Russell Agodon

My breast is pressed flat - a torpedo,
a pyramid, a triangle, a rocket on this altar;
this can't be good for anyone.

star nullstar nullstar nullstar nullstar null

The Twelve

© Alexander Blok

III
Our sons have gone
to serve the Reds
to serve the Reds
to risk their heads!

star nullstar nullstar nullstar nullstar null

Home From Abroad

© Laurie Lee

Far-fetched with tales of other worlds and ways,
My skin well-oiled with wines of the Levant,
I set my face into a filial smile
To greet the pale, domestic kiss of Kent.

star nullstar nullstar nullstar nullstar null

The Shepherds

© Henry Vaughan

Sweet, harmless lives! (on whose holy leisure
Waits innocence and pleasure),
Whose leaders to those pastures, and clear springs,
Were patriarchs, saints, and kings,

star nullstar nullstar nullstar nullstar null

Son-Days

© Henry Vaughan

1 Bright shadows of true Rest! some shoots of bliss,
Heaven once a week;
The next world's gladness prepossest in this;
A day to seek;

star nullstar nullstar nullstar nullstar null

The Elementary Scene

© Randall Jarrell

Looking back in my mind I can see
The white sun like a tin plate
Over the wooden turning of the weeds;
The street jerking --a wet swing--

star nullstar nullstar nullstar nullstar null

Gunner

© Randall Jarrell

Did they send me away from my cat and my wife
To a doctor who poked me and counted my teeth,
To a line on a plain, to a stove in a tent?
Did I nod in the flies of the schools?

star nullstar nullstar nullstar nullstar null

The Player Piano

© Randall Jarrell

I ate pancakes one night in a Pancake House
Run by a lady my age. She was gay.
When I told her that I came from Pasadena
She laughed and said, "I lived in Pasadena
When Fatty Arbuckle drove the El Molino bus."

star nullstar nullstar nullstar nullstar null

A Country Life

© Randall Jarrell

A bird that I don't know,
Hunched on his light-pole like a scarecrow,
Looks sideways out into the wheat
The wind waves under the waves of heat.

star nullstar nullstar nullstar nullstar null

Next Day

© Randall Jarrell

Moving from Cheer to Joy, from Joy to All,
I take a box
And add it to my wild rice, my Cornish game hens.
The slacked or shorted, basketed, identical
Food-gathering flocks
Are selves I overlook. Wisdom, said William James,

star nullstar nullstar nullstar nullstar null

90 North

© Randall Jarrell

At home, in my flannel gown, like a bear to its floe,
I clambered to bed; up the globe's impossible sides
I sailed all night—till at last, with my black beard,
My furs and my dogs, I stood at the northern pole.

star nullstar nullstar nullstar nullstar null

Losses

© Randall Jarrell

It was not dying: everybody died.
It was not dying: we had died before
In the routine crashes-- and our fields
Called up the papers, wrote home to our folks,

star nullstar nullstar nullstar nullstar null

Requiem for the Plantagenet Kings

© Geoffrey Hill

For whom the possessed sea littered, on both shores,
Ruinous arms; being fired, and for good,
To sound the constitution of just wards,
Men, in their eloquent fashion, understood.

star fullstar fullstar fullstar fullstar full

For Catherine: Juana, Infanta of Navarre

© Erin Belieu

Once you were a daughter, too,
then a wife and now the mother
of a baby with a Spanish name.