Section: «Poems»
Verse (ancient Greek ὁ στίχος — row, structure), a term in versification used in several meanings:
artistic speech organized by division into rhythmically commensurate segments; poetry in the narrow sense; in particular, it implies the properties of versification of a particular tradition ("antique verse", "Akhmatova's verse", etc.);
a line of poetic text organized according to a certain rhythmic pattern ("My uncle of the most honest rules").
A Girl Sang A Song
A girl sang a song in the temple's chorus,About men, tired in alien lands,About the ships that left native shores,And all who forgot their joy to the..
© Aleksandr Aleksandrovich Blok
I Wait For You...
I wait for you. The years in silence passAnd as the image, one, I wait for you again.The distance is in flame -- and clear one as glass,I, silent..
© Aleksandr Aleksandrovich Blok
Don'T Fear Death
Don't fear death in earthly travels.Don't fear enemies or friends.Just listen to the words of prayers,To pass the facets of the dreads.Your death..
© Aleksandr Aleksandrovich Blok
The Dead Poet
Never again shall he with wizard sleightEnsare on threshold of his soul the brightUnearthly splendors that would oft alight,And in the magic web of..
© Arthur Bayldon
Why I Am Poor
Because, my friends I have a savage gleeIn drinking to the dregs the draughts of lifeAnd love to feel my spirit spreading free,Stretching itself..
© Arthur Bayldon
To America In 1915
We watch your attitudes with candid eyes:Plain men are we, not given much to prate,Bluntly sincere, keenly compassionateBut lions in our wrath at..
© Arthur Bayldon
To Poesy
These vessels of verse, O Great Goddess, are filled with invisible tears,With the sobs and sweat of my spirit and her desolate brooding for..
© Arthur Bayldon
The Sea
Ere Greece soared, showering sovranties of light,Ere Rome shook earth with her tremendous tread,Ere yon blue-feasting sun-god burst blood-red,Beneath..
© Arthur Bayldon
Crabs
(Written on the Queensland Beach)Poisonous, bloated, crab-like shapesCrawl in gangs around these capes—Stopping here and feeding there;Listening..
© Arthur Bayldon
Marlowe
With eastern banners flaunting in the breezeRoyal processions, sounding fife and gongAnd showering jewels on the jostling throng,March to the tramp..
© Arthur Bayldon
Sunset
The weary wind is slumbering on the wing:Leaping from out meek twilight's purpling blueBurns the proud star of eve as though it knewIt was the big..
© Arthur Bayldon
An Old Bush Road
Dear old road, wheel-worn and broken, Winding thro' the forest green,Barred with shadow and with sunshine, Misty vistas drawn between.Grim..
© Arthur Bayldon
Night-Silence
The patient stars are shining large and clear;The crescent moon hangs like a tilted bowl;So calm, so still, that I can almost hearThoughts stirring..
© Arthur Bayldon
A Woman's Mood
I think to-night I could bear it all, Even the arrow that cleft the core, --Could I wait again for your swift footfall, And your sunny face..
© Arthur Bayldon
The Examination Of His Mistress's Perfections
Stand still my happiness, and swelling heartNo more, till I consider what thou art.Desire of knowledge was man's fatal vice,For when our parents were..
© Francis Beaumont
A Funeral Elegy On The Death Of The Lady Penelope Clifton
Since thou art dead, Clifton, the world may seeA certain end of flesh and blood in thee;Till then a way was left for man to cry,Flesh may be made so..
© Francis Beaumont
To My Friend Mr. John Fletcher, Upon His Faithful Sheperdess
I know too well, that, no more than the man,That travels through the burning desarts, can,When he is beaten with the raging sun,Half-smother'd with..
© Francis Beaumont
To My Friend M. Ben Jonson, Upon His Catiline
If thou hadst itch'd after the wild applauseOf common people, and hadst made thy lawsIn writing such as catch'd at present voice,I should commend the..
© Francis Beaumont
Upon The Silent Woman
Hear, you bad writers, and though you not see,I will inform you where you happy be:Provide the most malicious thoughts you can,And bend them all..
© Francis Beaumont
To My Dear Friend M. Ben Jonson, On His Fox
If it might stand with justice to allowThe swift conversion of all follies; now,Such is my mercy, that I could admitAll sorts should equally approve..
© Francis Beaumont
The Conclusion
Sleep not too much; nor longer than asleepWithin thy bed thy lazy body keep;For when thou, warm awake, shall feel it soft,Fond cogitations will..
© Francis Beaumont
The Remedy Of Love
When Cupid read this title, straight he said,'Wars, I perceive, against me will be made.'But spare, oh Love! to tax thy poet so,Who oft bath borne..
© Francis Beaumont
In Laudem Authoris.
Like to the weake estate of a poore friend,To whom sweet fortune hath bene euer slow,VVhich dayly doth that happy howre attend,VVhen his poore state..
© Francis Beaumont
The Glance
Cold Virtue guard me, or I shall endureFrom the next glance a double calentureOf fire and lust! Two flames, two Semeles,Dwell in those eyes, whose..
© Francis Beaumont
Ad Comitissam Rutlandiæ
Madam, so may my verses pleasing be,So may you laugh at them and not at me,'Tis something to you gladly I would say;But how to do't I cannot find the..
© Francis Beaumont