Summer, by Richard Francis Towndrow
I. JUNE, 1889 Summer at last: the cloudless s...
Animal Poems
To Lucasta, Going to the Wars, by Richard Lovelace
Tell me not, Sweet, I am unkind,
That from ...
The Sower, by Richard Watson Gilder
I A SOWER went forth to sow,
His eyes were d...
A Woman's Thought, by Richard Watson Gilder
I AM a woman--therefore I may not
Call to him,...
Gone to Istanbul, by Rick Lupert
from Brendan Constantine is My Kind of Town I ...
Letter From Stonehenge, by Rick Lupert
from Stolen Mummies Dear Reader
I write to yo...
The Color Tan, by Robert Birch
From Rhubarb Pie: With Just a Taste of Naughty ...
The Banks o' Doon, by Robert Burns
Ye banks and braes o' bonie Doon,
How can ye ...
John Anderson My Jo, by Robert Burns
John Anderson my jo, John,
When we were firs...
Of A' the Airts the Wind Can Blaw, by Robert Burns
Of a' the airts the wind can blaw
I dearly lik...
Tam o' Shanter, by Robert Burns
WHEN chapman billies leave the street,
And dr...
The Haunts of Ashur, by Robert Elliott Gonzales
'Tis night. And now is Dian seen
Ensconced upo...
A Vision of Atlantis, by Robert Elliott Gonzales
I stood upon the topmost crag of rock-ribbed Ta...
The First Rose of Summer, by Robert Gilfillan
'Tis the first rose of summer that ope's to my ...
The Happy Days o' Youth, by Robert Gilfillan
O! The happy days o' youth are fast gaun by,
...
The Blustering Night, by Robert Leighton
The wind burst, like an enemy at night,
Into...
The Fog, by Robert Leighton
And is this day, or is it night,
That is nei...
Go Home, Go Home, by Robert Leighton
It is closing hour--I will work no more.
Now t...
John Frost, by Robert Leighton
The arch-eyed sun stands in the east, amazed
...
Little Kate, by Robert Leighton
A winking, blinking, little thing,
Full of ...
The Lonely Isle, by Robert Leighton
I know an isle in the desert sea,
Where many ...
To Sleep, by Robert Leighton
O Sleep! Would that thou'dst seek my lonesome b...
The Country Road, by Robert McIntyre
Old meandering country road, to thy track I tu...
The Dogwood Tree, by Robert McIntyre
Bride of the woodland wide, dainty and undefil...
Joseph, by Robert McIntyre
Beyond the farthest bourne of Dan
O'er lands w...