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 Summer Afternoon
A languid atmosphere, a lazy breeze,With labored respiration, moves the wheatFrom distant reaches, till the golden seasBreak in crisp whispers at my..
© James Whitcomb Riley
Little Orphant Annie
To all the little children: -- The happy ones; and sad ones;The sober and the silent ones; the boisterous and glad ones;The good ones -- Yes, the..
© James Whitcomb Riley
A Barefoot Boy
A barefoot boy! I mark him at his play --For May is here once more, and so is he, --His dusty trousers, rolled half to the knee,And his bare ankles..
© James Whitcomb Riley
When The Frost Is On The Punkin
When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder's in the shockAnd you hear the kyouck and gobble of the struttin' turkey cockAnd the clackin' of the..
© James Whitcomb Riley
A Life-Lesson
There! little girl; don't cry!They have broken your doll, I know;And your tea-set blue,And your play-house, too,Are things of the long ago;But..
© James Whitcomb Riley
To Eleonora Duse In
Were you a Greek when all the world was young,Before the weary years that pass and pass,Had scattered all the temples on the grass,Before the moss to..
© Sara Teasdale
To Eleonora Duse Ii
Your beauty lives in mystic melodies,And all the light about you breathes a song.Your voice awakes the dreaming airs that throngWithin our..
© Sara Teasdale
To A Picture Of Eleanor Duse
Was ever any face like this before —So light a veiling for the soul within,So pure and yet so pitiful for sin?They say the soul will pass the Heavy..
© Sara Teasdale
To L. R. E.
When first I saw you — felt you take my hand,I could not speak for happiness to findHow more than all they said your heart was kind,How strong you..
© Sara Teasdale
To A Picture Of Eleonora Duse In
Carved in the silence by the hand of Pain,And made more perfect by the gift of Peace,Than if Delight had bid your sorrow cease,And brought the dawn..
© Sara Teasdale
To A Picture Of Eleonora Duse In
Your face is set against a fervent sky,Before the thirsty hills that sevenfoldReturn the sun's hot glory, gold on gold,Where Agamemnon and Cassandra..
© Sara Teasdale
To Eleonora Duse I
Oh beauty that is filled so full of tears,Where every passing anguish left its trace,I pray you grant to me this depth of grace:That I may see before..
© Sara Teasdale
The Wind In The Hemlock
STEELY stars and moon of brass,How mockingly you watch me pass!You know as well as I how soonI shall be blind to stars and moon,Deaf to the wind in..
© Sara Teasdale
To Sappho I
Impassioned singer of the happy time.When all the world was waking into morn,And dew still glistened on the tangled thorn,And lingered on the..
© Sara Teasdale
To A Picture Of Eleonora Duse With The Greek Fire, In
Francesca's life that was a limpid flameAgleam against the shimmer of a sword,Which falling, quenched the flame in blood outpouredTo free the house..
© Sara Teasdale
To A Picture Of Eleonora Duse As
Oh flower-sweet face and bended flower-like head!Oh violet whose purple cannot pale,Or forest fragrance ever faint or fail,Or breath and beauty pass..
© Sara Teasdale
The Sanctuary
IF I could keep my innermost MeFearless, aloof and freeOf the least breath of love or hate,And not disconsolateAt the sick load of sorrow laid on..
© Sara Teasdale
To Joy
Lo, I am happy, for my eyes have seenJoy glowing here before me, face to face;His wings were arched above me for a space,I kissed his lips, no bitter..
© Sara Teasdale
To Sappho Ii
Your lines that linger for us down the years,Like sparks that tell the glory of a flame,Still keep alight the splendor of your name,And living still..
© Sara Teasdale
Triolets
Before a lonely shrineOf foam-born Aphrodite,Ungarlanded of vine,Undyed by dripping wine,I brought green bay to twine,And prayed to her, almighty..
© Sara Teasdale
Evening: New York
Blue dust of evening over my city,Over the ocean of roofs and the tall towersWhere the window-lights, myriads and myriads,Bloom from the walls like..
© Sara Teasdale
On A March Day
Here in the teeth of this triumphant windThat shakes the naked shadows on the ground,Making a key-board of the earth to strikeFrom clattering tree..
© Sara Teasdale
The Voice
ATOMS as old as stars,Mutation on mutation,Millions and millions of cellsDividing yet still the same,From air and changing earth,From ancient Eastern..
© Sara Teasdale
The Tree
OH to be free of myself,With nothing left to remember,To have my heart as bareAs a tree in December;Resting, as a tree restsAfter its leaves are..
© Sara Teasdale
The Treasure
WHEN they see my songsThey will sigh and say,'Poor soul, wistful soul,Lonely night and day.'They will never knowAll your love for meSurer than the..
© Sara Teasdale