BEST LOVED POEMS
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The Old Song by Charles Kingsley
The Vampire by Rudyard Kipling
A Woman’s Answer to the Vampire by Felicia Blake
Drifting Sands and a Caravan by Yolande Langworthy
The Day Is Done by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Aladdin by James Russell Lowell
The Man with the Hoe by Edwin Markham
Sea-Fever by John Masefield
When I Am Old by Caroline Atherton Briggs Mason
Anne Rutledge by Edgar Lee Masters
The Greatest Battle by Joaquin Miller
’Tis the Last Rose of Summer by Thomas Moore
Who Walks with Beauty by David Morton
Ode by Arthur William O’Shaughnessy
Solitude by Alexander Pope
The Path that Leads to Nowhere by Corinne Roosevelt
The Wind by Christina Georgina Rossetti
Soliloquy from “Hamlet” by William Shakespeare
Tomorrow and Tomorrow from “Macbeth” by William Shakespeare
In Memoriam—Leo: A Yellow Cat by Margaret Sherwood
Fate by Susan Marr Spalding
The Long Ago by Benjamin F. Taylor
Tears, Idle Tears by Alfred Tennyson
Break, Break, Break by Alfred Tennyson
What Is Charm? by Louisa Carroll Thomas
Far from the Madding Crowd by Nixon Waterman
Against Idleness and Mischief by Isaac Watts
Who Has Known Heights by Mary Brent Whiteside
Hyacinths to Feed Thy Soul, Att. to Moslih Eddin Saudi
HUMOR AND SATIRE
A Boston Toast by John C. Bossidy
The Purple Cow by Gelett Burgess
The Walrus and the Carpenter by Lewis Carroll
The Mountain and the Squirrel by Ralph Waldo Emerson
The Duel by Eugene Field
The Policeman’s Lot by W. S. Gilbert
Elegy on the Death of a Mad Dog by Oliver Goldsmith
The Pessimist by Ben King
The Owl and the Pussy-cat by Edward Lear
There Was a Little Girl by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
The pelican by Dixon Merritt
Fleas by Ogden Nash
What’s The Use by Ogden Nash
Owed to New York by Byron Rufus Newton
The Ballad of Yukon Jake by Edward E. Paramore, Jr.
A Wise Old Owl by Edward Hersey Richards
The Blind Men and the Elephant by John Godfrey Saxe
Song by Richard Brinsley Sheridan
The Cremation of Sam McGee by Robert W. Service
Sorrows of Werther by William Makepeace Thackeray
Methuselah Anonymous
Days of Birth Anonymous
A Maxim Revised Anonymous
OLD FAVORITE STORY POEMS
Derelict by Young E. Allison
The Mistletoe Bough by Thomas Haynes Bayly
Cleopatra Dying by Thomas Stephens Collier
The Face Upon the Floor by H. Antoine D’Arcy
Lasca by Frank Desprez
The Landing of the Pilgrim Fathers by Felicia Hemans
Casabianca by Felicia Hemans
The Sands of Dee by Charles Kingsley
The Three Fishers by Charles Kingsley
The Man on the Flying Trapeze by George Leybourne
Paul Revere’s Ride by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Yussouf by James Russell Lowell
Antony and Cleopatra by William Haynes Lytle
A Visit from St. Nicholas by Clement Clarke Moore
Annabel Lee by Edgar Allan Poe
The Raven by Edgar Allan Poe
Lochinvar by Sir Walter Scott
The Spell of the Yukon by Robert W. Service
The Shooting of Dan McGrew by Robert W. Service
The Charge of the Light Brigade by Alfred Tennyson
Casey at the Bat by Ernest Lawrence Thayer
Curfew Must Not Ring Tonight by Rosa Hartwick Thorpe
Barbara Frietchie by John Greenleaf Whittier
Frankie and Johnny Anonymous
Index of first lines
Poems of Love
YOU AND I My hand is lonely for your clasping, dear;
My ear is tired waiting for your call.
I want your strength to help, your laugh to cheer;
Heart, soul and senses need you, one and all.
I droop without your full, frank sympathy;
We ought to be together—you and I;
We want each other so, to comprehend
The dream, the hope, things planned, or seen, or wrought.
Companion, comforter and guide and friend,
As much as love asks love, does thought ask thought.
Life is so short, so fast the lone hours fly,
We ought to be together, you and I.
HENRY ALFORD
HOW MANY TIMES
DO I LOVE THEE, DEAR? How many times do I love thee, dear?
Tell me how many thoughts there be
In the atmosphere
Of a new-fall’n year,
Whose white and sable hours appear
The latest flake of Eternity:
So many times do I love thee, dear.
How many times do I love again?
Tell me how many beads there are
In a silver chain
Of evening rain,
Unravell’d from the tumbling main,
And threading the eye of a yellow star:
So many times do I love again.
THOMAS L. BEDDOES
HER ANSWER Today, dear heart, but just today,
The sunshine over all,
The roses crimsoning the air
Along the garden wall!
Then let the dream and dreamer die
Whate’er shall be, shall be—
Today will still be thine and mine
To all eternity.
And oh, there is no glory, dear,
When all the world is done;
There is no splendor lasteth out
The sinking of the sun;
There is no thing that lasts, not one,
When we have turned to clay,
But this: you loved me—all the rest
Fades with the world away.
So little while, so little while,
This world shall last for us:
There is no way to keep it, dear,
But just to spend it thus:
There is no hand may stop the sand
From flowing fast away,
But his who turns the whole glass down
And dreams ’tis all today!
JOHN BENNETT
IN A ROSE GARDEN A hundred years from now, dear heart,
We shall not care at all,
It will not matter then a whit,
The honey or the gall.
The summer days that we have known
Will all forgotten be and flown;
The garden will be overgrown
Where now the roses fall.
A hundred years from now, dear heart,
We shall not mind the pain;
The throbbing crimson tide of life
Will not have left a stain.
The song we sing together, dear,
The dream we dream together here,
Will mean no more than means a tear
Amid a summer rain.
A hundred years from now, dear heart,
The grief will all be o’er;
The sea of care will surge in vain
Upon a careless shore.
These glasses we turn down today
Here at the parting of the way—
We shall be wineless then as they,
And shall not mind it more.
A hundred years from now, dear heart
We’ll neither know nor care
What came of all life’s bitterness,
Or followed love’s despair.
Then fill the glasses up again,
And kiss me through the rose-leaf rain;
And dream one more dream there.
JOHN BENNETT
LOVE’S SECRET Never seek to tell thy love,
Love that never told can be;
For the gentle wind doth move
Silently, invisibly.
I told my love, I told my love,
I told her all my heart,
Trembling, cold, in ghastly fears,
Ah! she did depart!
Soon after she was gone from me,
A traveller came by,
Silently, invisibly:
He took her with a sigh.
WILLIAM BLAKE
LIGHT The night has a thousand eyes,
The day but one;
Yet the light of the bright world dies
With the dying sun.
The mind has a thousand eyes,
And the heart but one;
Yet the light of a whole life dies
When its love is done.
FRANCIS W. BOURDILLON
SONNET FROM THE PORTUGUESE First time he kissed me, he but only kiss’d
The fingers of this hand wherewith I write;
And ever since, it grew more clean and white,
Slow to world-greetings, quick with its “Oh, list,”
When the angels speak. A ring of amethyst
I could not wear here, plainer to my sight,
Than that first kiss. The second pass’d in height
The first, and sought the forehead, and half miss’d,
Half falling on the hair. Oh, beyond meed!
That was the chrism of love, which love’s own crown,
With sanctifying sweetness, did precede.
The third upon my lips was folded down
In perfect, purple state; since when, indeed,
I have been proud, and said, “My love, my own!”
ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING
SUMMUM BONUM All the breath and the bloom of the year
in the bag of one bee;
All the wonder and wealth of the mine
in the heart of one gem;
In the core of one pearl all the shade and
the shine of the sea;
Breath and bloom, shade and shine,—
wonder, wealth, and—how far above them—
Truth, that’s brighter than gem,
Truth, that’s purer than pearl—
Brightest truth, purest trust in the universe—
all were for me
In the kiss of one girl.
ROBERT BROWNING
AULD LANG SYNE For auld lang syne, my dear,
For auld lang syne,
We’ll take a cup o’ kindness yet
For auld lang syne!
Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And never brought to mind?
Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And auld lang syne!
And surely ye’ll be your pint-stowp,
And surely I’ll be mine,
And we’ll take a cup o’ kindness yet
For auld lang syne!
We twa hae run about the braes,
And pou’d the gowans fine,
But we’ve wander’d monie a weary fit
Sin’ auld lang syne.
We twa hae paidl’d in the burn
Frae morning sun till dine,
But seas between us braid hae roar’d
Sin’ auld lang syne.
And there’s a hand, my trusty fiere,
And gie’s a hand o’ thine,
And we’ll tak a right guid-willie waught
For auld lang syne!
For auld lang syne, my dear,
For auld lang syne,
We’ll tak a cup o’ kindness yet
For auld lang syne!
ROBERT BURNS
MY LUVE’S LIKE
A RED, RED ROSE O my Luve’s like a red, red rose,
That’s newly sprung in June:
O my Luve’s like the melodie
That’s sweetly played in tune!
As fair art thou, my bonnie lass,
So deep in luve am I;
And I will luve thee still, my dear,
Till a’ the seas gang dry.
Till a’ the seas gang dry, my dear,
And the rocks melt wi’ the sun;
I will luve thee still, my dear,
While the sands o’ life shall run.
And fare thee weel, my only Luve,
And fare thee weel a while!
And I will come again, my Luve,
Though it were ten thousand mile.
ROBERT BURNS
JOHN ANDERSON, MY JO John Anderson, my jo, John,
When we were first acquent,
Your locks were like the raven,
Your bonie brow was brent;
But now your brow is beld, John,
Your locks are like the snaw;
But blessings on your frosty pow,
John Anderson, my jo!
John Anderson, my jo, John,
We clamb the hill thegither;
And monie a canty day, John,
We’ve had wi’ ane anither:
Now we maun totter down, John,
But hand in hand we’ll go,
And sleep thegither at the foot,
John Anderson, my jo.
ROBERT BURNS
SHE WALKS IN BEAUTY She walks in beauty like the night
Of cloudless climes and starry skies;
And all that’s best of dark and bright
Meets in her aspect and her eyes:
Thus mellow’d to that tender light
Which heaven to gaudy day denies.
One shade the more, one ray the less,
Had half impair’d the nameless grace
Which waves in every raven tress,
Or softly lightens o’er her face—
Where thoughts serenely sweet express
How pure, how dear their dwelling-place.
And on that cheek, and o’er that brow,
So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,
The smiles that win, the tints that glow,
But tell of days in goodness spent,
A mind at peace with all below,
A heart whose love is innocent.
LORD BYRON
MAID OF ATHENS Maid of Athens, ere we part,
Give, O, give me back my heart!
Or, since that has left my breast,
Keep it now, and take the rest!
Hear my vow before I go.
By those tresses unconfined,
Woo’d by each Aegean wind;
By those lids whose jetty fringe
Kiss thy soft cheeks’ blooming tinge;
By those wild eyes like the roe;
By that lip I long to taste;
By that zone-encircled waist;
By all the token-flowers that tell
What words can never speak so well;
By love’s alternate joy and woe.
Maid of Athens! I am gone,
Think of me, sweet, when alone.
Though I fly to Istambol,
Athens holds my heart and soul.
Can I cease to love thee? No!
LORD BYRON
OSSIAN’S SERENADE Oh, come with me in my little canoe,
Where the sea is cairn, and the sky is blue!
Oh, come with me, for I long to go
To those isles where the mango apples grow!
Oh, come with me and be my love!
For thee the jungle depth I’ll rove;
I’ll gather the honeycomb bright as gold,
And chase the elk to its secret hold.
Refrain:
I’ll chase the antelope over the plain,
The tiger’s cub I’ll bind with a chain,
And the wild gazelle, with its silvery feet,
I’ll give thee for a playmate sweet.
I’ll climb the palm for the bia’s nest,
Red peas I’ll gat
her to deck thy breast;
I’ll pierce the cocoa’s cup for its wine,
And haste to thee, if thou’lt be mine.
Then come with me in my light canoe,
While the sea is calm and the sky is blue,
For should we linger another day,
Storms may arise and love decay.
Oh, come if the love thou hast for me
Is pure and fresh as mine for thee—
Fresh as the fountain under ground,
When first ’tis by the lapwing found!
Our sands are bare, and down their slope,
The silvery-footed antelope,
As gracefully and gaily springs,
As o’er the marble courts of kings.
MAJOR CALDER CAMPBELL
SALLY IN OUR ALLEY Of all the girls that are so smart,
There’s none like pretty Sally;
She is the darling of my heart,
And she lives in our alley.
There is no lady in the land
Is half so sweet as Sally;
She is the darling of my heart,
And she lives in our alley.
Her father he makes cabbage-nets,
And through the streets does cry ’em;
Her mother she sells laces long
To such as please to buy ’em:
But sure such folks could ne’er beget
So sweet a girl as Sally!
She is the darling of my heart,
And she lives in our alley.
When she is by I leave my work,
I love her so sincerely;
My master comes like any Turk,
And bangs me most severely—
But let him bang his bellyful,
I’ll bear it all for Sally;
She is the darling of my heart,
And she lives in our alley.
Of all the days that’s in the week
I dearly love but one day,
And that’s the day that comes betwixt