Christmas Trees, by Robert Frost
(A Christmas Circular Letter) THE city had wit...
Religion Poems
The Star-Splitter, by Robert Frost
"YOU know Orion always comes up sideways.
Thro...
Calais, August 15, 1802, by William Wordsworth
Festivals have I seen that were not names:
Th...
The Idle Shepherd-Boys; or, Dungeon-Ghyll Force, by William Wordsworth
The valley rings with mirth and joy;
Among th...
Michael, by William Wordsworth
A Pastoral Poem If from the public way you tur...
The Thorn, by William Wordsworth
I "There is a Thornit looks so old,
In truth...
The Holy Grail, by Alfred Tennyson
From noiseful arms, and acts of prowess done
...
Sir Galahad, by Alfred Tennyson
My good blade carves the casques of men,
My t...
The Bishop Orders His Tomb at Saint Praxed's Church, by Robert Browning
ROME, 15 Vanity, saith the preacher, vanity...
The Boy and the Angel, by Robert Browning
Morning, evening, noon, and night,
"Praise...
The Cardinal and the Dog, by Robert Browning
CRESCENZIO, the Pope's Legate at the High Coun...
The Pope and the Net, by Robert Browning
WHAT, he on whom our voices unanimously ran,
...
The Cremona Violin, by Amy Lowell
Part First Frau Concert-Meister Altgelt shut t...
To Elizabeth Ward Perkins, by Amy Lowell
Dear Bessie, would my tired rhyme
&nbs...
Calais, August 15, 1802, by William Wordsworth
Festivals have I seen that were not names:
Th...
The Idle Shepherd-Boys; or, Dungeon-Ghyll Force, by William Wordsworth
The valley rings with mirth and joy;
Among th...
Michael, by William Wordsworth
A Pastoral Poem If from the public way you tur...
The Thorn, by William Wordsworth
I "There is a Thornit looks so old,
In truth...
joining jesus, by Ray Heinrich
i was joining jesus to his cross
using galvani...
Two Deaths in the Bronx, by Donald Evans
The sodden stretches of the months of pregnancy...
Marozia, by A. Ferdinand Herold
UPON the terrace where the shadow falls,
Enga...
The Groans of the Tankard, by Anna Letitia Barbauld
OF strange events I sing, and portents dire;
...
Lilian, by Arthur Symons
I. PROEM. This was a sweet white wildwood viol...
No Winter in Los Angeles, by August Wilhelm Wern
There is no winter here!
With joy we hail Octo...
A Reminder of Christmas, by Benjamin Peck Keith
When I sense the balsam fragrance:
Of the hem...