World Library  



Poetry Collection (1,271 Books)


The World Public Library Poetry Collection shelves over 8,000 of the most popular English poems ever composed, spanning over five hundred years.

 
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Nearer My God to Thee

By: Sarah Flower Adams

Poetry

Excerpt: Nearer, my God, to Thee, // Nearer to Thee! // E'en though it be a cross // That raiseth me; // Still all my song shall be, // Nearer, my God, to Thee, // Nearer to Thee! // Though like the wanderer, // The sun gone down, // Darkness be over me, // My rest a stone; // Yet in my dreams I'd be // Nearer, my God, to Thee, // Nearer to Thee! // There let the way appear // Steps unto Heaven, // All that Thou send'st me // In mercy given; // Angels to beckon me // Nea...

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To the Sun-Dial

By: John Quincy Adams

Poetry

Excerpt: Under the Window of the Hall of the House // of Representatives of the United States // Thou silent herald of Time's silent flight! // Say, could'st thou speak, what warning voice were thine? // Shade, who canst only show how others shine! // Dark, sullen witness of resplendent light // In day's broad glare, and when the noontide bright // Of laughing fortune sheds the ray divine, // Thy ready favors cheer us-but decline // The clouds of morning and the gloom of...

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Buddha and Brahma

By: Henry Adams

Poetry

Excerpt: The Buddha, known to men by many names - // Siddartha, Sakya, Muni, Blessed One,- // Sat in the forest, as had been his wont // These many years since he attained perfection; // In silent thought, abstraction, purity, // His eyes fixed on the Lotus in his hand, // He meditated on the perfect Life, // While his disciples, sitting round him, waited // His words of teaching, every syllable // More and more precious as the Master gently // Warned them how near was c...

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To Alice Sit by the Hour

By: Franklin P. Adams

Poetry

Excerpt: Lady in the blue kimono, you that live across the way, // One may see you gazing, gazing gazing all the livelong day, // Idly looking out your window from your vantage point above. // Are you convalescent, lady? Are you worse? Are you in love? // Ever gazing, as you hang there on the little window seat, // Into flats across the way or down upon the prosy street, // Can't you rent a pianola? Can't you iron, sew, or cook? // Write a letter, bake a pudding, make a ...

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Us Potes

By: Franklin P. Adams

Poetry

Excerpt: SWIFT was sweet on Stella; // Poe had his Lenore; // Burns' fancy turned to Nancy // And a dozen more. // Poe was quite a trifler; // Goldsmith was a case; // Byron'd flirt with any skirt // From Liverpool to Thrace. // Sheridan philandered; // Shelley, Keats, and Moore // All were there with some affair // Far from lit'rachoor. // Fickle is the heart of // Each immortal bard. // Mine alone is made of stone- // Gotta work too hard. // Franklin P. Adams...

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A Ballad of Baseball Burdens

By: Franklin P. Adams

Poetry

Excerpt: The burden of hard hitting. Slug away // Like Honus Wagner or like Tyrus Cobb. // Else fandom shouteth: Who said you could play? // Back to the jasper league, you minor slob! // Swat, hit, connect, line out, goet on the job. // Else you shall feel the brunt of fandom's ire // Biff, bang it, clout it, hit it on the knob - // This is the end of every fan's desire. // The burden of good pitching. Curved or straight. // Or in or out, or haply up or down, // To puzzl...

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Ode

By: Joseph Addison

Poetry

Excerpt: Ode // The spacious firmament on high, // With all the blue ethereal sky, // And spangled heav'ns, a shining frame, // Their great Original proclaim. // Th'unwearied sun from day to day // Does his Creator's pow'r display, // And publishes to every land // The work of an almighty hand. // Soon as the ev'ning shades prevail, // The moon takes up the wondrous tale, // And nightly to the list'ning earth // Repeats the story of her birth; // Whilst all the stars tha...

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Morning Song of Senlin

By: Conrad Aiken

Poetry

Excerpt: It is morning, Senlin says, and in the morning // When the light drips through the shutters like the dew, // I arise, I face the sunrise, // And do the things my fathers learned to do. // Stars in the purple dusk above the rooftops // Pale in a saffron mist and seem to die, // And I myself on a swiftly tilting planet // Stand before a glass and tie my tie. // Vine leaves tap my window, // Dew-drops sing to the garden stones, // The robin chips in the chinaberry ...

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Senlin : A Biography

By: Conrad Aiken

Poetry

Excerpt: His Dark Origins - // Senlin sits before us, and we see him. // He smokes his pipe before us, and we hear him. // Is he small, with reddish hair, // Does he light his pipe with meditative stare, // And a pointed flame reflected in both eyes? // Is he sad and happy and foolish and wise? // Did no one see him enter the doors of the city, // Looking above him at the roofs and trees and skies? // 'I stepped from a cloud', he says, 'as evening fell; // I walked on th...

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Senlin : A Biography

By: Conrad Aiken

Poetry

Excerpt: When the light drips through the shutters like the dew, // I arise, I face the sunrise, // And do the things my fathers learned to do. // Stars in the purple dusk above the rooftops // Pale in a saffron mist and seem to die, // And I myself on a swiftly tilting planet // Stand before a glass and tie my tie. // Vine leaves tap my window, // Dew-drops sing to the garden stones, // The robin chips in the chinaberry tree // Repeating three clear tones. // It is morn...

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Selections from the Charnel Rose : A Symphony

By: Conrad Aiken

Poetry

Excerpt: I. Part 1 // She rose in moonlight, and stood, confronting sea, // With her bare arms uplifted, // And lifted her voice in the silence foolishly: // And her face was small, and her voice was small. // 'O moon!' she cried, 'I think how you must tire // Forever circling earth, so silently; // Earth, who is dark and makes you no reply.' // She only heard the little waves rush and fall; // And saw the moon go quietly down the sky. // Like a white figurehead in the s...

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Improvisations : Light and Snow

By: Conrad Aiken

Poetry

Excerpt: The girl in the room beneath // Before going to bed // Strums on a mandolin // The three simple tunes she knows. // How inadequate they are to tell how her heart feels! // When she has finished them several times // She thrums the strings aimlessly with her finger-nails // And smiles, and thinks happily of many things. // II // I stood for a long while before the shop window // Looking at the blue butterflies embroidered on tawny silk. // The building was a towe...

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Ode on a Sermon against Glory

By: Mark Akenside

Poetry

Excerpt: Come then, tell me, sage divine, // Is it an offence to own // That our bosoms e'er incline // Toward immortal glory's throne? // For with me nor pomp, nor pleasure, // Bourbon's might, Braganza's treasure, // So can fancy's dream rejoice, // So conciliate reason's choice, // As one approving word of her impartial voice. // If to spurn at noble praise // Be the pass-port to thy heaven, // Follow thou those gloomy ways; // No such law to me was given, // Nor, I t...

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The Tragedienne

By: Zoe Akins

Poetry

Excerpt: A Storm is riding on the tide; // Grey is the day and grey the tide, // Far-off the sea-gulls wheel and cry- // A storm draws near upon the tide. // A city lifts its minarets // To winds that from the desert sweep; // And prisoned Arab women weep // Below the domes and minarets. // Upon a hill in Thessaly // Stand broken columns in a line // About a cold forgoten shrine, // Beneath a moon in Thessaly // But in the world there is no place // So desolate as your t...

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The Lay of the Golden Goose

By: Louisa May Alcott

Poetry

Excerpt: Long ago in a poultry yard // One dull November morn, // Beneath a motherly soft wing // A little goose was born. // Who straightway peeped out of the shell // To view the world beyond, // Longing at once to sally forth // And paddle on the pond. // 'Oh! be not rash,' her father said, // A mild Socratic bird; // Her mother begged her not to stray // With many a warning word. // But little goosey was perverse, // And eagerly did cry, // I've got a lovely pair of ...

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Our Little Ghost

By: Louisa May Alcott

Poetry

Excerpt: Oft, in the silence of the night, // When the lonely moon rides high, // When wintry winds are whistling, // And we hear the owl's shrill cry, // In the quiet, dusky chamber, // By the flickering firelight, // Rising up between two sleepers, // Comes a spirit all in white. // A winsome little ghost it is, // Rosy-cheeked, and bright of eye; // With yellow curls all breaking loose // From the small cap pushed awry. // Up it climbs among the pillows, // For the bi...

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Dartmouth Harbor

By: Fredric James Alden

Poetry

Excerpt: Year after year the morning light soft lies // Along Cornwall on wave-beat cliff and scar; // Year after year the evening sun afar // Casts lingering sheen where warring breakers rise. // Untiring, on swift wing the sea-bird flies, // While calmly, constant as the gleaming star, // The river Dart rolls to the harbor bar, // And mirrors clouds in over-smiling skies. // Crusaders gathered here in time of old, // And hence sailed vaunting barks to far Calais, // Or...

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Hesperides

By: Thomas Bailey Aldrich

Poetry

Excerpt: If thy soul, Herrick, dwelt with me, // This is what my songs would be: // Hints of our sea-breezes, blent // With odors from the Orient; // Indian vessels deep with spice; // Star-showers from the Norland ice; // Wine-red jewels that seem to hold // Fire, but only burn with cold; // Antique goblets, strangely wrought, // Filled with the wine of happy thought, // Bridal measure, vain regrets, // Laburnum buds and violets; // Hopeful as the break of day; // Clear...

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Before the Rain

By: Thomas Bailey Aldrich

Poetry

Excerpt: We knew it would rain, for all the morn // A spirit on slender ropes of mist // Was lowering its golden buckets down // Into the vapory amethyst. // Of marshes and swamps and dismal fens- // Scooping the dew that lay in the flowers, // Dipping the jewels out of the sea, // To sprinkle them over the land in showers. // We knew it would rain, for the poplars showed // The white of their leaves, the amber grain // Shrunk in the wind-and the lightning now // Is tang...

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After the Rain

By: Thomas Bailey Aldrich

Poetry

Excerpt: The rain has ceased, and in my room // The sunshine pours an airy flood; // And on the church's dizzy vane // The ancient cross is bathed in blood. // From out the dripping ivy leaves, // Antiquely carven, gray and high, // A dormer, facing westward, looks // Upon the village like an eye. // And now it glimmers in the sun, // A globe of gold, a disk, a speck; // And in the belfry sits a dove // With purple ripples on her neck. // Thomas Bailey Aldrich...

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