Teen poems

/ page 2 of 8 /

Order by :

'Why, nothing of consequence, save this attack
On my friend there, behind, by some pitiful hack,
Who thinks every national author a poor one,
That isn't a copy of something that's foreign,
And assaults the American Dick--'

Confessio Amantis. Explicit Liber Quartus

© John Gower

Incipit Liber Quintus

The Prophecy Of Famine

© Charles Churchill

Still have I known thee for a silly swain;
Of things past help, what boots it to complain?
Nothing but mirth can conquer fortune's spite;
No sky is heavy, if the heart be light:
Patience is sorrow's salve: what can't be cured,
So Donald right areads, must be endured.

A Modest Request

© Oliver Wendell Holmes

SCENE,--a back parlor in a certain square,
Or court, or lane,--in short, no matter where;
Time,--early morning, dear to simple souls
Who love its sunshine and its fresh-baked rolls;
Persons,--take pity on this telltale blush,
That, like the AEthiop, whispers, "Hush, oh hush!"

Aurora Leigh: Book Seventh

© Elizabeth Barrett Browning

I broke on Marian there. "Yet she herself,
A wife, I think, had scandals of her own,-
A lover not her husband."

Don Juan: Canto The Sixth

© George Gordon Byron

'There is a tide in the affairs of men

Which,--taken at the flood,'--you know the rest,

Skoppensboer

© Eugene Marais

Astraea: The Balance Of Illusions

© Oliver Wendell Holmes

Dear to his age were memories such as these,
Leaves of his June in life's autumnal breeze;
Such were the tales that won my boyish ear,
Told in low tones that evening loves to hear.

Subway by Barry Goldensohn: American Life in Poetry #125 Ted Kooser, U.S. Poet Laureate 2004-2006

© Ted Kooser

The American poet, Ezra Pound, once described the faces of people in a rail station as petals on a wet black bough. That was roughly seventy-five years ago. Here Barry Goldenson of New York offers a look at a contemporary subway station. Not petals, but people all the same.

Imitation Of Spenser

© John Keats

Now Morning from her orient chamber came,
And her first footsteps touch'd a verdant hill;
Crowning its lawny crest with amber flame,
Silv'ring the untainted gushes of its rill;

The Canterbury Tales;The Knyghtes Tale

© Geoffrey Chaucer

THE KNYGHTES TALE.

The Story of Prince Agib

© William Schwenck Gilbert

STRIKE the concertina's melancholy string!
Blow the spirit-stirring harp like anything!
Let the piano's martial blast
Rouse the Echoes of the Past,
For of AGIB, PRINCE OF TARTARY, I sing!

An Impromptu Fairy-Tale

_When I wuz ist a little bit_
_o' weenty-teenty kid_
_I maked up a Fairy-tale,_
_all by myse'f, I did:--_

Poem Read At The Dinner Given To The Author By The Medical Profession Of The City Of New York, April

Good was the dinner, better was the talk;
Some whispered, devious was the homeward walk;
The story came from some reporting spy,
They lie, those fellows, oh, how they do lie!
Not ours those foot-tracks in the new-fallen snow,
Poets and sages never zigzagged so!

On the morning of May,

Ere the children had entered my gate

Jack Cornstalk in his Teens

© Henry Lawson

If not in the Garden, he had in the ark,
To neither the beasts nor the passengers joy.
Full many a boyish and monkeyish lark,
The sandy-complexioned, the freckle-faced boy.