Outstanding poems from various parts of the world. Alphabetically sorted, by title, while ignoring articles (a/the).
Many of these poems are translations. Poetry, above all writings, has a particular advantage in its original tongue.
Be that as it may, even if the verses don't hold exactly the same power as they do in their native language, they are remarkable and, therefore, included.
Certain favorites are marked, in one way or another.
Click the excerpt to see the complete poem.
Define and narrow me, you starve yourself of yourself.
Nail me down in a box of cold words, that box is your coffin.
Never trust a white man,
Never kill a Jew,
Never sign a contract,
Never rent a pew.
Ah, my Beloved, fill the Cup that clears
To-day of past Regrets and future Fears
It was many and many a year ago,
In a kingdom by the sea,
That a maiden there lived whom you may know
By the name of Annabel Lee;-
If questioning would make us wise
No eyes would ever gaze in eyes;
A book of verses, underneath the bough,
A jug of wine, a loaf of bread - and thou
Take this kiss upon the brow!
And, in parting from you now,
Thus much let me avow
Come to me in the silence of the night;
Come in the speaking silence of a dream;
Extinguish Thou my eyes: I still can see Thee,
deprive my ears of sound: I still can hear Thee
Some say the world will end in fire,
Some say in ice.
From what I've tasted of desire
I hold with those who favor fire.
An unbelieving smile flits on your eyes
when I come to you to take my leave.
I long to speak the deepest words I have to say to you;
but I dare not, for fear you should laugh.
Do not love half lovers
Do not entertain half friends
Do not indulge in works of the half talented
Do not live half a life and do not die a half death
If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
I loved you; and perhaps I love you still,
The flame, perhaps, is not extinguished; yet
Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the Pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.
Love not me for comely grace,
For my pleasing eye or face;
Nor for any outward part,
No, nor for my constant heart
I crave your mouth, your voice, your hair.
Silent and starving, I prowl through the streets.
Bread does not nourish me, dawn disrupts me, all day
I hunt for the liquid measure of your steps.
I do not love you as if you were the salt-rose, or topaz,
or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off.
Never seek to tell thy love,
Love that never told can be;
For the gentle wind does move
A magic moment I remember:
I raised my eyes and you were there.
I go to concert, party, ball —
What profit is in these?
I sit alone against the wall
And strive to look at ease.
Under the blue skies of her native land
She languished and began to fade...
Until surely there flew without a sound
Above me, her young shade.
Now sleeps the crimson petal, now the white;
Nor waves the cypress in the palace walk;
Nor winks the gold fin in the porphyry font
There was a time when meadow, grove, and stream,
The earth, and every common sight
O me! O life!... of the questions of these recurring;
Of the endless trains of the faithless - of cities fill'd with the foolish;
Define and narrow me, you starve yourself of yourself
Nail me down in a box of cold words,
That box is your coffin.
Beauty is but a vain and doubtful good;
A shining gloss that vadeth suddenly;
Come live with me and be my love,
And we will all the pleasures prove
I was angry with my friend;
I told my wrath, my wrath did end.
I was angry with my foe:
I told it not, my wrath did grow.
Remember me when I am gone away,
Gone far away into the silent land;
When you can no more hold me by the hand,
Nor I half turn to go yet turning stay.
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
All things uncomely and broken,
all things worn-out and old
There is a vale which none hath seen,
Where foot of man has never been,
Turning and turning in the widening gyre
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
She dwelt among the untrodden ways
Beside the springs of Dove
She walks in beauty, like the night
Of cloudless climes and starry skies;
And all that's best of dark and bright
Meet in her aspect and her eyes
You say you love; but with a voice
Chaster than a nun's, who singeth
The soft Vespers to herself
While the chime-bell ringeth-
Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate
Let me not to the marriage of true minds
Admit impediments; love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds,
There is a pleasure in the pathless woods,
There is a rapture on the lonely shore
It little profits that an idle king,
By this still hearth, among tese barren crags
When children are playing alone on the green,
In comes the playmate that never was seen.
If you want what visible reality can give, you're an employee.
If you want the unseen world, you're not living your truth.
When you are old and grey and full of sleep,
And nodding by the fire, take down this book
It lies not in our power to love or hate,
For will in us is overruled by fate.
The wondrous moment of our meeting...
I well remember you appear
Before me like a vision fleeting,
A beauty's angel pure and clear.
Verse, a breeze 'mid blossoms straying,
Where Hope clung feeding, like a bee -
Both were mine! Life went a-maying
With Nature, Hope, and Poesy
|site search by freefind|
The poem search is an external service.
The results open in a new window.
Back to the arts