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:
William Watson
PRELUDE The mighty poets from their flowing storeDispense like casual alms the careless ore;Through throngs of men their lonely way they go,Let fall their costly thoughts, nor seem to know.—Not mine the rich and showering hand, that strewsThe facile largess of a stintless Muse.A fitful presence, seldom tarrying long,Capriciously she touches me to song—Then leaves me to lament her flight in vain,And...
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by:
Jazno Francoeur
Part One Home Our life was an accident, the flames were conjured by an indifferent couple. So much time has passed, their union dissipated with the dumb carcass of our home. This house has been all of our housesÐ our parents colluded with emptiness to conceal this fact. We live from cairn to cairn, burning refugee hearts, each mistake receding in the rear-view mirror, each incipient disaster breaking...
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WHEN YOU KNOW A FELLOW When you get to know a fellow, know his joys and know his cares, When you've come to understand him and the burdens that he bears, When you've learned the fight he's making and the troubles in his way, Then you find that he is different than you thought him yesterday. You find his faults are trivial and there's not...
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by:
Various
O the angels know the blessed day, And strike their harps anew? Then may the echo of their lay Float sweetly down to you, And fill your soul with Christmas song That your heart shall echo your whole life long. Havergal. A bright and happy Christmas to you! Lift up yourselves to the great meaning of the day, and dare to think of your humanity as something so sublimely precious that it is worthy of being...
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by:
Anonymous
THE LITTLE HERO OF HAARLEM. At an early period in the history of Holland, a boy was born in Haarlem, a town remarkable for its variety of fortune in war, but happily still more so for its manufactures and inventions in peace. His father was a sluicer,—that is, one whose employment it was to open and shut the sluices, or large oak-gates, which, placed at certain regular distances, close the entrance...
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by:
Unknown
Mr. Editor:—Your correspondent, N.B.S., has so decisively given a quietus to the question as to the birthplace of Cotton Mather, that there is no danger of its ever being revived again. But there is another question of equal importance to many, to the literary world in particular, which should in like manner be put to rest. Who was Mother Goose? and when were her melodies first given to the world?...
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COME LASSES AND LADS Come Lasses and Lads, get leave of your Dads, And away to the May-pole hey: For every heHas got him a she,with a minstrel standing by. For Willy has gotten his Jill,And Johnny has got his Jone,To jigg it, jigg it, jigg it, jigg it,Jigg it up and down. "Strike up," says Watt; "Agreed," says Kate,"And I prithee, Fiddler, play;""Content," says Hodge,...
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by:
Unknown
OLD MOTHER HUBBARD AND HER DOG.Old Mother HubbardWent to the cupboard,To give her poor Dog a bone,When she came thereThe cupboard was bare,And so the poor Dog had none. JOHN McLOUGHLIN, Publisher, N. Y. She went to the Tavern,For white wine and red,When she came backThe Dog stood on his head.She brought him a cakeWhich she bought at the Fair,When she came backThe Dog sat in a chair. She...
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by:
Daniel Errico
BEARPAWS NATHAN ZEBRATAIL There was once a boy named Nathan Green.He was never rude and never mean.But everyone was scared of him,Nancy, Dennis, Tom and Tim. Nick and Susan, Mike and James,Never let him play their games.He knew why, but didn’t say.His mom said he was born that way. Nathan’s hands aren’t hands at all.They’re bigger than a basketball.They’re covered brown by furry hair,Just...
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BOOK I. THE VISION OF THE KING Before the gods that made the godsHad seen their sunrise pass,The White Horse of the White Horse ValeWas cut out of the grass. Before the gods that made the godsHad drunk at dawn their fill,The White Horse of the White Horse ValeWas hoary on the hill. Age beyond age on British land,Aeons on aeons gone,Was peace and war in western hills,And the White Horse looked on. For...
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