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A dozen poems
For todayA version friendly to printer and palmtop
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A Faun in Wall Street, by John Myers O'Hara
What shape so furtive steals along the dim
Bleak street, barren of throngs, this day of June;
This day of rest, when all the roses swoon
In Attic vales where dryads wait for him?
What sylvan this, and what the stranger whim
Give my regards to Lu Yao, by Wenze
A herd of hawks hover in ten thousand li of high altitude
A lonely horse is buried in Qin Sichuan's soil
At this night, the cold wind is blowing the tears of the moon
Wails to come at a distance, that is a cuckoo of the insomnia on the tree
Lu Yao, 1949-1992, was a famous writer of China. This poem was written in the 10th anniversary of his death.
Dora, by Thomas Edward Brown
SHE knelt upon her brother's grave,
My little girl of six years old--
He used to be so good and brave,
The sweetest lamb of all our fold;
He used to shout, he used to sing,
A Lynmouth Widow, by Amelia Josephine Burr
He was straight and strong, and his eyes were blue
As the summer meeting of sky and sea,
And the ruddy cliffs had a colder hue
Than flushed his cheek when he married me.
We passed the porch where the swallows breed,
An Old Colonist's Reverie, by David McKee Wright
Dustily over the highway pipes the loud nor'-wester at morn,
Wind and the rising sun, and waving tussock and corn;
It brings to me days gone by when first in my ears it rang,
The wind is the voice of my home, and I think of the songs it sang
When, fresh from the desk and ledger, I crossed the long leagues of sea --
Song, by John Cutts, Lord Cutts
ONLY tell her that I love:
Leave the rest to her and Fate:
Some kind planet from above
May perhaps her pity move:
Lovers on their stars must wait.--
Bag-Pipes at Sea, by Clinton Scollard
Above the shouting of the gale,
The whipping sheet, the dashing spray,
I heard, with notes of joy and wail,
A piper play.
Along the dipping deck he trod,
The Only Way, by Louis V. Ledoux
I
Memphis and Karnak, Luxor, Thebes, the Nile:
Of these your letters told; and I who read
Saw loom on dim horizons Egypt's dead
In march across the desert, mile on mile,
Sun, by Henry Rowe
ANGEL, king of streaming morn;
Cherub, call'd by Heav'n to shine;
T' orient tread the waste forlorn;
Guide aetherial, pow'r divine;
Thou, Lord of all within!
Love in a Cottage, by Daniel Henry Deniehy
A cottage small be mine, with porch
Enwreathed with ivy green,
And brightsome flowers with dew-filled bells,
'Mid brown old wattles seen.
And one to wait at shut of eve,
Lincoln, the Man of the People, by Edwin Markham
When the Norn Mother saw the Whirlwind Hour
Greatening and darkening as it hurried on,
She left the Heaven of Heroes and came down
To make a man to meet the mortal need.
She took the tried clay of the common road --
I never understood, by Timothy Faria
I never understood what happened that day,
I never understood what made you look my way.
I never understood just how it happened,
You and me together, Just did not seem to be machin',
I was the "stoner boy", also known as the "loner boy"
The DayPoems web site, www.daypoems.net, is copyright 2001-2012 by Timothy Keith Bovee. All rights reserved.
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