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A dozen poems
For todayA version friendly to printer and palmtop
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Rosalind's Madrigal, by Thomas Lodge
LOVE in my bosom like a bee
Doth suck his sweet:
Now with his wings he plays with me,
Now with his feet.
Within mine eyes he makes his nest,
On the Podium of the Zeppelin-Tribune, Nuremberg, Germany, by Melanie Consul
In the steps of death
I Heard the chants
Saw the ranks
Of an army far too great
The sky grew dark
White Paper, by Sydney Jephcott
Smooth white paper 'neath the pen;
Richest field that iron ploughs,
Germinating thoughts of men,
Though no heaven its rain allows;
Till they ripen, thousand fold,
A Night in Italy, by Edward Robert Bulwer Lytton, Earl of Lytton
SWEET are the rosy memories of the lips
That first kiss'd ours, albeit they kiss no more:
Sweet is the sight of sunset-sailing ships,
Altho' they leave us on a lonely shore:
Sweet are familiar songs, tho' Music dips
Letty's Globe, by Charles Tennyson Turner
WHEN Letty had scarce pass'd her third glad year,
And her young artless words began to flow,
One day we gave the child a colour'd sphere
Of the wide earth, that she might mark and know,
By tint and outline, all its sea and land.
May, by Edward Thurlow, Lord Thurlow
MAY! queen of blossoms,
And fulfilling flowers,
With what pretty music
Shall we charm the hours?
Wilt thou have pipe and reed,
The Thought of her, by Richard Hovey
My love for thee doth take me unaware,
When most with lesser things my brain is wrought,
As in some nimble interchange of thought
The silence enters, and the talkers stare.
Suddenly I am still and thou art there,
Genius Loci, by Margaret L. Woods
PEACE, Shepherd, peace! What boots it singing on?
Since long ago grace-giving Phoebus died,
And all the train that loved the stream-bright side
Of the poetic mount with him are gone
Beyond the shores of Styx and Acheron,
Auld Robin Gray, by Lady Anne Lindsay
WHEN the sheep are in the fauld, and the kye at hame,
And a' the warld to rest are gane,
The waes o' my heart fa' in showers frae my e'e,
While my gudeman lies sound by me.
Young Jamie lo'ed me weel, and sought me for his bride;
Chavez, by Mildred McNeal Sweeney
So hath he fallen, the Endymion of the air,
And so lies down in slumber lapped for aye.
Diana, passing, found his youth too fair,
His soul too fleet and willing to obey.
She swung her golden moon before his eyes --
Sappho, by Sara Teasdale
The twilight's inner flame grows blue and deep,
And in my Lesbos, over leagues of sea,
The temples glimmer moonwise in the trees.
Twilight has veiled the little flower face
Here on my heart, but still the night is kind
Bali, by Barbara Nelson
Our poets wrote in early settler days
Of floods and drought, nature's
capricious ways
All "Acts of God" for which no blame
was cast
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