Pod Poems

Pod Poems

The City in the Sea, by Edgar Allan Poe

Lo! Death has reared himself a throne
In a s...

Dreamland, by Edgar Allan Poe

By a route obscure and lonely,
Haunted by il...

Dreams, by Edgar Allan Poe

Oh! That my young life were a lasting dream!
...

Romance, by Edgar Allan Poe

Romance, who loves to nod and sing,
With dr...

Silence, by Edgar Allan Poe

There are some qualities some incorporate thing...

Spirits of the Dead, by Edgar Allan Poe

Thy soul shall find itself alone
'Mid dark t...

To One in Paradise, by Edgar Allan Poe

Thou wast that all to me, love,
For which m...

The Valley of Unrest, by Edgar Allan Poe

Once it smiled a silent dell
Where the people...

Forbearance, by Ralph Waldo Emerson

Hast thou named all the birds without a gun?
...

The Informing Spirit, by Ralph Waldo Emerson

I There is no great and no small
To the Soul...

Nemesis, by Ralph Waldo Emerson

Already blushes on thy cheek
The bosom though...

The Past, by Ralph Waldo Emerson

The debt is paid,
The verdict said,
The F...

Politics, by Ralph Waldo Emerson

Gold and iron are good
To buy iron and gold; ...

Promise, by Ralph Waldo Emerson

In countless upward-striving waves
The moon-d...

Seashore, by Ralph Waldo Emerson

I heard or seemed to hear the chiding Sea
Say...

Song of Nature, by Ralph Waldo Emerson

Mine are the night and morning,
The pits of ...

Two Rivers, by Ralph Waldo Emerson

Thy summer voice, Musketaquit,
Repeats the ...

The Quality Of Mercy , by William Shakespeare

The quality of mercy is not strain'd.
It dropp...

Tears, by Walt Whitman

Tears! Tears! Tears!
In the night, in solitu...

The Fountain, by William Wordsworth

We talked with open heart, and tongue
Affect...

The Oak and the Broom, by William Wordsworth

I

His simple truths did Andrew glean
Be...

The Sun Has Long Been Set, by William Wordsworth

The sun has long been set,
The stars are out...

The Waterfall and the Eglantine, by William Wordsworth

I "Begone, thou fond presumptuous Elf, "
Ex...

In Autumn, by Paul Verlaine

Violins of Autumn sobbing
        Deep and lo...

A Face, by Robert Browning

If one could have that little head of hers
Pa...