Classical Poems

Title Poet
Sophus Niels Christen Claussen poet by Sophus Niels Christen Claussen
on 7/9/2012
The wind rose, the sea rose
A wave rose on the sea,
Joseph Mary Plunkett poet by Joseph Mary Plunkett
on 5/25/2012
Abul Hussain poet by Abul Hussain
on 5/16/2012
I wore a large brim hat
like the women in the ads.
Ruth Stone poet by Ruth Stone
on 12/27/2011
ALAS, too much we loved the glittering wares
That art and education had devised
John Jay Chapman poet by John Jay Chapman
on 10/7/2010
Uncomprising year—I see no meaning to life.
Though this abled self is here nonetheless,
Gregory Corso poet by Gregory Corso
on 4/15/2010
Before the threat
And dismal cold gray
Anonymous Americas poet by Anonymous Americas
on 4/5/2010
Stars were racing; waves were washing headlands.
Salt went blind, and tears were slowly drying.
Boris Pasternak poet by Boris Pasternak
on 4/3/2010
All night they marched, the infantrymen under pack,
But the hands gripping the rifles were naked bone
Stephen Vincent Benet poet by Stephen Vincent Benet
on 3/30/2010
Deep in my hidden country stands a peak,
and none hath known its name
Christopher John Brennan poet by Christopher John Brennan
on 3/1/2010
1866 -- Addressed To The Old Year
Art thou not glad to close
Thy wearied eyes, O saddest child of Time,
Henry Timrod poet by Henry Timrod
on 1/1/2004
Then dirt scared me, because of the dirt
he had put on her face. And her training bra
Sharon Olds poet by Sharon Olds
on 1/13/2003
Alone at night
in the wet city
Frank O'Hara poet by Frank O'Hara
on 1/13/2003
The porchlight coming on again,
Early November, the dead leaves
Weldon Kees poet by Weldon Kees
on 1/13/2003
1916 seen from 1921
Tired with dull grief, grown old before my day,
I sit in solitude and only hear
Edmund Blunden poet by Edmund Blunden
on 1/3/2003
From Clee to heaven the beacon burns,
The shires have seen it plain,
Alfred Edward Housman poet by Alfred Edward Housman
on 1/3/2003
War broke: and now the Winter of the world
With perishing great darkness closes in.
Wilfred Owen poet by Wilfred Owen
on 1/3/2003
1914 V: The Soldier
These hearts were woven of human joys and cares,
Washed marvellously with sorrow, swift to mirth.
Rupert Brooke poet by Rupert Brooke
on 1/3/2003
I’ve watched the Seasons passing slow, so slow,
In the fields between La Bassée and Bethune;
Robert Graves poet by Robert Graves
on 1/3/2003
ARM’D year! year of the struggle!
No dainty rhymes or sentimental love verses for you, terrible year!
Walt Whitman poet by Walt Whitman
on 12/31/2002
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