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| Search results for: p | Found 8786 Poems |
| 4061. | Sparrow singing by Yosa Buson | | Sparrow singing--
its tiny mouth
open.... |
| 4063. | Ploughing the land by Yosa Buson | | Ploughing the land--
not even a bird singing
in the mountain's shadow.... |
| 4064. | In The Poppy Field by James Stephens | | Mad Patsy said, he said to me,
That every morning he could see
An angel walking on the sky;
Across the sunny skies of morn
He threw great handfuls... |
| 4065. | The Poet by Hermann Hesse | | Only on me, the lonely one,
The unending stars of the night shine,
The stone fountain whispers its magic song,
To me alone, to me the lonely one
T... |
| 4066. | Pine-Trees and the Sky: Evening by Rupert Brooke | | I'd watched the sorrow of the evening sky,
And smelt the sea, and earth, and the warm clover,
And heard the waves, and the seagull's mocking cry.
... |
| 4067. | Thoughts On The Shape Of The Human Body by Rupert Brooke | | How can we find? how can we rest? how can
We, being gods, win joy, or peace, being man?
We, the gaunt zanies of a witless Fate,
Who love the unlovi... |
| 4068. | 1914 I: Peace by Rupert Brooke | | Now, God be thanked Who has watched us with His hour,
And caught our youth, and wakened us from sleeping,
With hand made sure, clear eye, and shar... |
| 4069. | The Song of the Pilgrims by Rupert Brooke | | (Halted around the fire by night, after moon-set, they sing this beneath the trees.)
What light of unremembered skies
Hast thou relumed within our... |
| 4070. | A Letter to a Live Poet by Rupert Brooke | | Sir, since the last Elizabethan died,
Or, rather, that more Paradisal muse,
Blind with much light, passed to the light more glorious
Or deeper blin... |
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