Poetry
- American 96
- Ancient, Classical & Medieval 41
- Anthologies (multiple authors) 1
- Asian 15
- Australian & Oceanian 11
- Canadian 11
- Caribbean & Latin American 5
- Children's Poetry & Nursery rhymes 51
- Continental European 11
- English, Irish, Scottish, Welsh 162
- General 483
- Inspirational & Religious 7
- Middle Eastern 3
Poetry Books
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by:
James Boswell
NO ABOLITION OF SLAVERY:OR,THE UNIVERSAL EMPIRE OF LOVE. ADDRESSED TO MISS ——.——Most pleasing of thy sex,Born to delight and never vex;Whose kindness gently can controulMy wayward turbulence of soul.Pry’thee, my dearest, dost thou read,The MorningPrints, and ever heedMinutes, which tell how time’s mispent,In either House of Parliament?See, with the front of Jove!But not like Jove with...
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Susan Coolidge
PRELUDE. Poems are heavenly things, And only souls with wings May reach them where they grow, May pluck and bear below, Feeding the nations thus With food all glorious. Verses are not of these; They bloom on earthly trees, Poised on a low-hung stem, And those may gather them Who cannot fly to where The heavenly gardens are. So I by devious ways Have pulled...
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Margaret Armour
In old tales they tell us many wonders of heroes and of high courage, of glad feasting, of wine and of mourning; and herein ye shall read of the marvellous deeds and of the strife of brave men. There grew up in Burgundy a noble maiden, in no land was a fairer. Kriemhild was her name. Well favoured was the damsel, and by reason of her died many warriors. Doughty knights in plenty wooed her, as was meet,...
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Sara Teasdale
Helen of Troy Wild flight on flight against the fading dawnThe flames' red wings soar upward duskily.This is the funeral pyre and Troy is deadThat sparkled so the day I saw it first,And darkened slowly after. I am sheWho loves all beauty—yet I wither it.Why have the high gods made me wreak their wrath—Forever since my maidenhood to sowSorrow and blood about me? Lo, they keepTheir bitter care...
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Erasmus Darwin
THE LOVES OF THE PLANTS. Descend, ye hovering Sylphs! aerial Quires, And sweep with little hands your silver lyres; With fairy footsteps print your grassy rings, Ye Gnomes! accordant to the tinkling strings;5 While in soft notes I tune to oaten reed Gay hopes, and amorous sorrows of the mead.— From giant Oaks,...
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THE BATTLE OF THE PONS TRIUM TROJANORUM: A lay sung in the Temple of Minerva Girtanensis. [NOTE.—On Thursday, February 24th, 1881, three Graces were submitted to the Senate of the University of Cambridge, confirming the Report of The Syndicate appointed June 3rd, 1880, to consider four memorials relating to the Higher Education of Women. The first two Graces were passed by majorities of 398 and 258...
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Lucy Crane
POLLY PUT THE KETTLE ON [Listen] [PDF] [MusicXML] Polly, put the kettle on,Polly, put the kettle on,Polly, put the kettle on,We’ll all have tea. Sukey, take it off again,Sukey, take it off again,Sukey, take it off again,They’ve all gone away. [Listen] [PDF] [MusicXML] Hot Cross Buns!Hot Cross Buns!One a penny, two a penny,Hot Cross Buns!If you have no daughters,If you have no daughters,If you...
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Owen Seaman
1. A SONG OF RENUNCIATION. (AFTER A. C. S.) In the days of my season of salad, When the down was as dew on my cheek, And for French I was bred on the ballad, For Greek on the writers of Greek,–– Then I sang of the rose that is ruddy, Of ‘pleasure that winces and stings,’ Of white women and wine that is bloody, And similar things. Of Delight that is dear as Desi-er, And Desire that is...
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Various
A GENTLEMAN OF THE HIGHWAYS By KATHRYN JARBOE Since early morning nothing but sunshine had entered the hospitable doorway of The Jolly Grig, a tavern not a dozen miles from the outer edge of London town. Across the white, sanded floor golden patches of light had moved with measured tread, and merry motes had danced in the golden beams, but nothing else had stirred. On the deep hearth were piled huge...
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Charles Robinson
BED IN SUMMERIn winter I get up at nightAnd dress by yellow candle-light.In summer, quite the other way,I have to go to bed by day.I have to go to bed and seeThe birds still hopping on the tree,Or hear the grown-up people's feetStill going past me in the street. And does it not seem hard to you,When all the sky is clear and blue,And I should like so much to play,To have to go to bed by day? It is...
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