Merlin and Vivien, by Alfred Tennyson
A storm was coming, but the winds were still, ...
Fly Poems
The Passing of Arthur, by Alfred Tennyson
That story which the bold Sir Bedivere,
First...
Pelleas and Ettarre, by Alfred Tennyson
King Arthur made new knights to fill the gap
L...
The Revenge: A Ballad of the Fleet, by Alfred Tennyson
At Flores in the Azores Sir Richard Grenville l...
Sir Galahad, by Alfred Tennyson
My good blade carves the casques of men,
My t...
The Two Voices, by Alfred Tennyson
A still small voice spake unto me,
"Thou art ...
The Vision of Sin, by Alfred Tennyson
1 I had a vision when the night was late:
A...
Ode III, by Hafez
From the Divan Wind from the east, oh Lapwing...
Reveille, by Lola Ridge
Come forth, you workers!
Let the fires go col...
At the Window, by D. H. Lawrence
THE pine-trees bend to listen to the autumn win...
Excursion, by D. H. Lawrence
I WONDER, can the night go by;
Can this shot...
In a Boat, by D. H. Lawrence
SEE the stars, love,
In the water much clear...
Listening, by D. H. Lawrence
I LISTEN to the stillness of you,
My dear, a...
Mating, by D. H. Lawrence
ROUND clouds roll in the arms of the wind,
Th...
Red Moon-Rise, by D. H. Lawrence
The train in running across the weald has falle...
Snap-Dragon, by D. H. Lawrence
SHE bade me follow to her garden, where
The m...
Bittô, by Anna de Noailles
THE honey-gilded summer loud with bees,
Perfu...
Emotional Monologue, by Maxwell Bodenheim
A man is sitting within the enigmatic turmoil o...
Finalities, by Maxwell Bodenheim
I Pretend that night is grandiose,
That star...
Seaweed from Mars, by Maxwell Bodenheim
I "Have you ever played a violin
Larger than ...
The Wrinkled Grimaces of Eastern Skies, by Maxwell Bodenheim
The wrinkled grimaces of eastern skies
Are cau...
Young Poet, by Maxwell Bodenheim
The grinning clamour on your face
Dies abruptl...
From the Chrysalis, by Emily Dickinson
My cocoon tightens, colors tease,
I'm feelin...
If You Were Coming in the Fall, by Emily Dickinson
IF you were coming in the fall,
I'd brush the...
The Secret, by Emily Dickinson
Some things that fly there be, --
Birds, hou...