To a Poor Old Woman - William Carlos Williams

munching a plum on
the street a paper bag
of them in her hand

Wild Rose - Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

Once a lad a rose did spy,
On the moorland growing,
Young and lovely to the eye;
Fast he ran to see it nigh,
Ran with pleasure glowing.
Red rose, red rose, red rose red,
On the moorland growing.

April showers - anonymous

When April skies begin to frown,
And the cold rain comes pelting down,
We must not grumble nor complain,
Nor idly say, we hate the rain.

Advice to Mrs. Mowat - Anne Hecht

Dear Hetty —
                       Since the single state
You've left to choose yourself a mate,
Since metamorphosed to a wife,
And bliss or woe insured for life,
A friendly muse the way should show
To gain the bliss and miss the woe.

The Monkey And The Cat - Jean de La Fontaine

Jocko the Monkey, Mouser—his chum, the Cat,
Had the same master. Both were sleek and fat,
And mischievous. If anything went wrong,
The neighbours where not blamed. Be sure of that.

The Ballad of the Dead Ladies - François Villon

Tell me now, in what hidden way is
Lady Flora, the lovely Roman?
Where's Hipparchia, and where is Thaïs?
Neither of them the fairer woman?
Where is Echo, beheld of no man,
Only heard on river and mere—
She whose beauty was more than human?
But where are the snows of yesteryear?

Still Too Far Away - Xuân Diệu

The other day you sat too far away from me
So I asked you to move over a bit closer.
You inched over closer, but I demurred.
To be a good girl you inched still closer.
As I was boiling over, in haste with a smile
You scooted closer soothing, "Here I am!"
I brightened up then scowled at once
For I thought, you were still too far away.

The Corn Husker - Emily Pauline Johnson (Tekahionwake)

Hard by the Indian lodges, where the bush
  Breaks in a clearing, through ill-fashioned fields,
She comes to labour, when the first still hush
  Of autumn follows large and recent yields.

The Last Piper - Edward J. O’Brien

Dark winds of the mountain,
White winds of the sea,
Are skirling the pibroch
Of Seumas an Righ.

Flung to the Heedless Winds - Martin Luther

Flung to the heedless winds,
Or on the waters cast,
The martyrs' ashes, watched,
Shall gathered be at last.

If You Forget Me - Pablo Neruda

I want you to know
one thing.

Sunbeam - Anna Akhmatova

I pray to the sunbeam from the window -
It is pale, thin, straight.

Beg-Innish - John Millington Synge

Bring Kateen-beug and Maurya Jude
To dance in Beg-Innish,
And when the lads (they're in Dunquin)
Have sold their crabs and fish,
Wave fawny shawls and call them in,
And call the little girls who spin,
And seven weavers from Dunquin,
To dance in Beg-Innish.

Stars in the Sea - Roderic Quinn

I took a boat on a starry night
And went for a row on the Water,
And she danced like a child on a wake of light
And bowed where the ripples caught her.

The Ould Has-Been - Cicely Fox Smith

All down by the harbour a-walking one day,
I saw an old hulk by the wharf-side that lay,
Her topmasts lopped off and her paint weathered bare,
Red rust flaking off her, and no one to care.

The Blessed Nation - Georgia C. Elliott

He holds in remembrance
Each one of His fold;
Their hairs are all numbered,
Their names are all told;
Their prayers are all answered,
Their cries are all heard:
How blessed is the nation
Whose God is the Lord!

The soul and the body on the beach - Anna Swir

The soul on the beach
studies a textbook of philosophy.
The soul asks the body:
Who bound us together?
The body says:
Time to tan the knees.

Tigers at Play - Stafford Beer

Sea birds stand on a rocky wall
                  evening is here.
        Farewell to sunshine today.

By Night when Others Soundly Slept - Anne Bradstreet

By night when others soundly slept
And hath at once both ease and Rest,
My waking eyes were open kept
And so to lie I found it best.

In the Express Train - Ludwig Fulda

I hasten by a city lightning-fast
Here in the rattling train: I see
Streets, houses, people shooting past,

Say, How Many Stars Are Glowing - Wilhelm Hey

Say, how many stars are glowing
On the heavens’ deep blue dome?
Say, how many clouds are going,
Over all the world to roam?
God our Lord has told their host,
That no single one is lost,
Though their number be so great.

Longing - Joseph Freiherr von Eichendorff

The stars were so golden and glistening;
I stood by the window alone,
To songs of the post-horn listening,
O’er silent moorland blown.
My heart within me was burning.
“To travel—ah, what delight!”
I thought in my secret yearning,
In the glorious summer night.

The Wish - Aleksandr Pushkin

I shed my tears; my tears – my consolation;
And I am silent; my murmur is dead,

Easter Monday - Eleanor Farjeon

(In Memoriam E.T.)
In the last letter that I had from France
You thanked me for the silver Easter egg