Treasure Island

Classical Poems

Title Poet
We're All Australians Now'
Australia takes her pen in hand
To write a line to you,
Banjo Paterson poet by Banjo Paterson
on 4/14/2014
We're Coming! We're Coming!
We're coming, we're coming, the fearless and free,
Like the winds of the desert, the waves of the sea!
Anonymous Americas poet by Anonymous Americas
on 4/6/2010
We're Dreamers All
Oh, man must dream of gladness wherever his pathways lead,
And a hint of something better is written in every creed;
Edgar Albert Guest poet by Edgar Albert Guest
on 8/27/2014
Were I a Poet, I would dwell
`Were I a Poet, I would dwell,
Not upon lonely height,
Alfred Austin poet by Alfred Austin
on 4/7/2010
Were I A Skilful Painter
Were I a skilful painter,
My pencil, not my pen,
George MacDonald poet by George MacDonald
on 4/9/2010
Were I Man Grown
Were I man grown, I'd stand
With clean heart, soul, and hand,
Ella Wheeler Wilcox poet by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
on 4/2/2010
We're Late
Clocks cannot tell our time of day
For what event to pray
Wystan Hugh Auden poet by Wystan Hugh Auden
on 1/1/2004
Were My Bosom As False as Thou Deem'st It To Be
Were my bosom as false as thou deem'st it to be,
I need not have wander'd from far Galilee;
George Gordon Byron poet by George Gordon Byron
on 3/25/2010
Were My Whole Body Festooned With Eyes
Were my whole body festooned with eyes,
I would gaze at my Master with untiring zeal.
Sultan Bahu poet by Sultan Bahu
on 9/20/2012
Wert Thou but ill—that I might show thee
Wert Thou but ill—that I might show thee
Emily Dickinson poet by Emily Dickinson
on 1/1/2004
Hans Christian Andersen poet by Hans Christian Andersen
on 7/3/2012
'I've seen so much uv dirt an' grime
I'm mad to 'ave things clean.
Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis poet by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
on 3/21/2012
West by North Again
We've drunk our wine, we've kissed our girls, and funds are sinking low,
The horses must be thinking it's a fair thing now to go;
Harry 'Breaker' Harbord Morant poet by Harry 'Breaker' Harbord Morant
on 1/1/2004
West End Fair
Dame Charity one day was tired
With nursing of her children three,—
Anna Laetitia Barbauld poet by Anna Laetitia Barbauld
on 9/6/2010
West London
Crouch'd on the pavement close by Belgrave Square
A tramp I saw, ill, moody, and tongue-tied;
Matthew Arnold poet by Matthew Arnold
on 12/31/2002
West Of Fanny O'Dea's
You’ll not find the name in geography books,
It isn’t marked on the map,
Alice Guerin Crist poet by Alice Guerin Crist
on 4/5/2010
West Wind, The
Beneath the forest's skirts I rest,
Whose branching pines rise dark and high,
William Cullen Bryant poet by William Cullen Bryant
on 12/31/2002
Westöliche Rosen
die rosen werden an die hüte gekreuzigt, die lippen
Jean Arp poet by Jean Arp
on 1/3/2003
The Cowboy had a sterling heart,
The Maiden was from Boston,
Ellis Parker Butler poet by Ellis Parker Butler
on 4/20/2010
Western Australia
O Beauteous Southland! Land of yellow air
That hangeth o've thee slumbering, and doth hold
John Boyle O'Reilly poet by John Boyle O'Reilly
on 5/20/2012
western buddhism out of zen
for thirty years
I wondered whether that famous haiku
Eric Beach poet by Eric Beach
on 5/13/2012
Western Camps
THREE men stood with their glasses lifted,
Night was around them and flaring lamps:
Roderic Quinn poet by Roderic Quinn
on 4/16/2010
Western Dusk
A faun-cry romps through sparks,
In the parks cascades of light foam,
Georg Trakl poet by Georg Trakl
on 4/6/2012
Hark, I hear the bells of Westgate,
I will tell you what they sigh,
John Betjeman poet by John Betjeman
on 5/9/2011
Westland Row
Every Sunday there's a throng
Of pretty girls, who trot along
James Stephens poet by James Stephens
on 3/27/2010
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