These are some favourite poems for your enjoyment that are as relevant today as when they were written. Most poetry today is found in the lyrics of songs but there are classic poems from yesteryear that still have meaning today. Many of these poems are love poems - both love lost and love enduring - and others are of friendship, childhood and growing old, choices and opportunities. Favourite poets represented include Edna St Vincent Millay, Robert Frost, Sarah Teasdale and Christina Rosetti. If you find joy, relaxation or solace in great poetry then read on.
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"Hope" is the thing with feathers
"Hope" is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul And sings the tune without the words And never stops - at all And sweetest - in the Gale - is heard And sore must be the storm That could abash the little Bird That kept so many warm I've heard it in the chillest land And on the strangest Sea Yet, never, in Extremity, It asked a crumb - of Me. Emily Dickinson Pity Me Not
Pity me not that the light of day
At close of day no longer walks the sky. Pity me not for beauties passed away From field and thicket as the year goes by. Pity me not the waning of the moon Nor that the ebbing tide goes out to sea. Nor that a man's desire can be hushed so soon And you no longer look with love on me. These things I have always known, that love is no more Than the wide blossom that the wind assails. Than the great tide that treads the shifting shore Strewing fresh wreckage gathered by the gales. Pity me the heart so slow to learn What the swift mind beholds at every turn. Edna St Vincent Millay I would Live in your Love
I would live in your love as the sea-grasses live in the sea, Borne up by each wave as it passes, drawn down by each wave that recedes; I would empty my soul of the dreams that have gathered in me, I would beat with your heart as it beats, I would follow your soul as it leads. Sarah Teasdale
My Love is Like to Ice
My love is like to ice, and I to fire:
How comes it then that this her cold so great Is not dissolved through my so hot desire, But harder grows the more I her entreat? Or how comes it that my exceeding heat Is not allayed by her heart-frozen cold, But that I burn much more in boiling sweat, And feel my flames augmented manifold? What more miraculous thing may be told, That fire, which all things melts, should harden ice, And ice, which is congeal's with senseless cold, Should kindle fire by wonderful device? Such is the power of love in gentle mind, That it can alter all the course of kind. Edmund Spenser One Hard Look
Small gnats that fly
In hot July And lodge in sleeping ears, Can rouse therein A trumpet's din With Day of Judgement fears. Small mice at night Can wake more fright Than lions at midday; A straw can crack The camel's back - There is no easier way. One smile relieves A heart that grieves Though deadly sad it be, And one hard look Can close the book That lovers love to see. Robert Graves The Thaw
Over the land freckled with snow half thawed
The speculating rooks at their nest cawed And saw from elm-tops, delicate as flower of grass, What we below could not see, Winter pass. Edward Thomas Fate
Two shall be born the whole wide world apart
And speak in different tongues and have no thought Each of the other's being, and no heed; And these, o'er unknown seas to unknown lands Shall cross, escaping wreck, defying death; And all unconsciously shape each act And bend each wandering step to this one end - That one day out of darkness they shall meet And read life's meaning in each other's eyes. And two shall walk some narrow way of life So nearly side by side that should one turn Ever so little space left or right They needs must stand acknowledged, face to face, And yet, with wistful eyes that never meet, With groping hands that never clasp, and lips Calling in vain to ears that never hear, They seek each other all their weary days And die unsatisfied - and this is Fate! Susan Marr Spalding Remember
Remember me when I am gone away,
Gone far away into the silent land; When you can no more hold me by the hand, Nor I half turn to go yet turning stay. Remember me when no more day by day You tell me of our future that you plann'd: Only remember me; you understand It will be late to counsel then or pray. Yet if you should forget me for a while And afterwards remember, do not grieve: For if the darkness and corruption leave A vestige of the thoughts that once I had, Better by far you should forget and smile Than that you should remember and be sad. Christina Georgina Rossetti
My Candle Burns at Both Ends
My candle burns at both ends
It will not last the night But Ah my friends And Oh my foes It makes a lovely sight Edna St Vincent Millay Young and Old
When all the world is young, lad,
And all the trees are green; And every goose a swan, lad, And every lass a queen; The hey for boot and horse, lad And round the world away; Young blood must have its course, lad, And every dog his day. When all the world is old, lad, And all the trees are brown; And all the sport is stale, lad, And all the wheels run down; Creep home, and take your place there, The spent and maimed among; God grant you find one face there, You loved when all was young. Charles Kingsley The Soldier
If I should die, think only this of me;
That there's some corner of a foreign field That is forever England. There shall be In that rich earth a richer dust concealed; A dust in whom England bore, shaped, made aware, Gave, once, her flowers to love, her ways to roam, A body of England's breathing English air, Washed by the rivers, blest by suns of home. And think, this heart, all evil washed away, A pulse in the eternal mind no less Gives somewhere back the thoughts by England given; Her sights and sounds; dreams happy as her day; And laughter, learnt of friends and gentleness, In hearts at peace, under an English heaven. Rupert Brooke The Road Not Taken
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both And be one traveller, long I stood And looked down one as far as I could To where it bent in the undergrowth; Then took the other, as just as fair, And having perhaps the better claim, Because it was grassy and wanted wear; Though as for that the passing there Had worn them really about the same, And both that morning equally lay In leaves no step had trodden black. Oh, I kept the first for another day! Yet knowing how way leads on to way, I doubted if I should ever come back. I shall be telling this with a sigh Somewhere ages and ages hence: Two roads diverged in a wood, and I - I took the one less travelled by, And that has made all the difference. Robert Frost
Memory
My mind lets go a thousand things,
Like dates of wars and deaths of kings, And yet recalls the very hour - 'Twas noon by yonder village tower, And on the last blue noon in May - The wind came briskly up this way, Crisping the brook beside the road; Then pausing here, set down its load Of pine-scents, and shook listlessly Two petals from that wild-rose tree. Thomas Bailey Aldrich The Rainy Day
The day is cold, and dark and dreary;
It rains, and the wind is never weary; The vine still clings to the mouldering wall, But at every gust the dead leaves fall, And the day is dark and dreary. My life is cold and dark and dreary; It rains and the wind is never weary; My thoughts still cling to the mouldering Past, But the hopes of youth fall thick in the blast, And the days are dark and dreary. Be still, sad heart! and cease repining; Behind the clouds is the sun still shining; Thy fate is the common fate of all. Into each life some rain must fall, Some days must be dark and dreary. Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Retirement
I praise the Frenchman, his remark was shrewd,
How sweet, how passing sweet is solitude! But grant me still a friend in my retreat, Whom I may whisper, Solitude is sweet. William Cowper The Reading Mother
I had a mother who read to me
Sagas of pirates who scoured the sea, Cutlasses clenched in their yellow teeth, "Blackbirds" stowed in the hold beneath I had a Mother who read me lays Of ancient and gallant and golden days; Stories of Marmion and Ivanhoe, Which every boy has a right to know. I had a Mother who read me tales Of Gelert the hound of the hills of Wales, True to his trust till his tragic death, Faithfulness blent with his final breath. I had a Mother who read me the things That wholesome life to the boy heart brings- Stories that stir with an upward touch, Oh, that each mother of boys were such. You may have tangible wealth untold; Caskets of jewels and coffers of gold. Richer than I you can never be -- I had a Mother who read to me. Strickland Gillilan We Wear the Mask
We wear the mask that grins and lies,
It hides our cheeks and shades our eyes, - This debt we pay to human guile; With torn and bleeding hearts we smile, And mouth with myriad subtleties. Why should the world be over-wise, In counting all our tears and sighs? Nay, let them only see us, while We wear the mask. We smile, but, O great Christ, our cries To thee from tortured souls arise. We sing, but oh the clay is vile Beneath our feet, and long the mile; But let the world dream otherwise, We wear the mask! Paul Laurence Dunbar Faith
Better trust all, and be deceived,
And weep that trust, and that deceiving; Than doubt heart, that, if believed, Had blessed one's life with true believing. Oh, in this mocking world, too fast The doubting fiend o'ertakes our youth! Better be cheated to the last, Than lose the blessed hope of truth. Frances Anne Kemble |
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