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A dozen poems
For todayA version friendly to printer and palmtop
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Autumn, by Jean Start Untermeyer
(For my Mother)
How memory cuts away the years,
And how clean the picture comes
Of autumn days, brisk and busy;
Charged with keen sunshine.
Witness to Eerie Happenings, by Madan G. Gandhi
In flashes of explosion I see
a million billion crackers burst
in desolate dark of the sky.
The punctured sheen of space unfolds
on eternity's chequer board,
Autumn, by Walter Savage Landor
MILD is the parting year, and sweet
The odour of the falling spray;
Life passes on more rudely fleet,
And balmless is its closing day.
I wait its close, I court its gloom,
Ode, by Arthur William Edgar O'Shaughnessy
WE are the music-makers,
And we are the dreamers of dreams,
Wandering by lone sea-breakers,
And sitting by desolate streams;
World-losers and world-forsakers,
Earliest Spring, by William Dean Howells
TOSSING his mane of snows in wildest eddies and tangles,
Lion-like March cometh in, hoarse, with tempestuous breath,
Through all the moaning chimneys, and 'thwart all the hollows and
angles
Round the shuddering house, threating of winter and death.
To a Lady, by William Dunbar
SWEET rois of vertew and of gentilness,
Delytsum lily of everie lustynes,
Richest in bontie and in bewtie clear,
And everie vertew that is wenit dear,
Except onlie that ye are mercyless
Love, by Alexander Smith
THE fierce exulting worlds, the motes in rays,
The churlish thistles, scented briers,
The wind-swept bluebells on the sunny braes,
Down to the central fires,
Exist alike in Love. Love is a sea
Old Amaze, by Mahlon Leonard Fisher
Mine eyes are filled today with old amaze
At mountains, and at meadows deftly strewn
With bits of the gay jewelry of June
And of her splendid vesture; and, agaze,
I stand where Spring her bright brocade of days
Gordon's Grave, by Francis William Lauderdale Adams
All the heat and the glow and the hush
of the summer afternoon;
the scent of the sweet-briar bush
over bowing grass-blades and broom;
the birds that flit and pass;
A True Love, by Nicholas Grimald
WHAT sweet relief the showers to thirsty plants we see,
What dear delight the blooms to bees, my true love is to me!
As fresh and lusty Ver foul Winter doth exceed--
As morning bright, with scarlet sky, doth pass the evening's weed--
As mellow pears above the crabs esteemed be--
Youth and Age, by Samuel Taylor Coleridge
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,
When I was young!
Snow, by Sandy Kay Turmail
Snow
Crystal water falls
mesmerizing the eyes
enveloping the mind
Soon it's all around
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