Pandangaran - Catharina Boer

Repelled in time, we are:
little wooden houses behind crude stones
against the sea, fishermen who graze
the bottom, deep abrasion to survive.

The Theatre of the Humble - Julio Herrera y Reissig

The countryside is as the Bible says…
evening sinks down among the hills to die;
a final flash of sunlight threads through high
towers, aligning fairy lattices.

When Plaintively And Near The Cricket Sings - Nora May French

Now evening comes.  Now stirs my discontent...
            Oh ache of smallest, unforgotten things!
How sharp you are when day and dark are blent,
  When beetles hurry by with vibrant wings,
  And plaintively and near the cricket sings.

The Raven Who Would Rival The Eagle - Jean de La Fontaine

An Eagle swooped from out the sky,
And carried off a sheep.
A Raven seeing him, said: "I
Could do that too if I should try.
His meal comes mighty cheap."

Cædmon's Hymn - Cædmon

Now let me praise the keeper of Heaven's kingdom,
the might of the Creator, and his thought,

Give Me Welcome All with Cheer - Walter von der Vogelweide

Give me welcome all with cheer!
Harken, what my tidings fair shall be.
All that you were wont to hear
Is a very trifle: now ask me.
But give me my reward!
Then, if that be good,
I shall tell what you will hear with joyful mood.
Take care, and honours fit accord!

I Would I Might Forget That I am I (Sonnet VII) - George Santayana

I would I might forget that I am I,
And break the heavy chain that binds me fast,
Whose links about myself my deeds have cast.

The Dying Hunter to his Dog - Susanna Moodie

Lie down — lie down! — my noble hound,
      That joyful bark give o'er;
It wakes the lonely echoes round,
      But rouses me no more —
Thy lifted ears, thy swelling chest,
      Thy eyes so keenly bright,
No longer kindle in my breast
      The thrill of fierce delight;
When following thee on foaming steed
My eager soul outstripped thy speed —

The Moonbeam - Luis G. Urbina

Moonbeam, come in! Thou art a welcome guest.
'Tis long since I have seen thy silver flame.
Although I left the casement open wide,
Shadows alone into my chamber came.

Deceased are the patrician mansions - Georges Rodenbach

Deceased are the patrician mansions,
And eternally enfolded in silence

Kleven - Jorgen Ingebrektsem Moe

Tread near the brink of the mountain here,
And let my home’s fair, blooming valley
With friendly greeting round us rally
The sons of countries far and near.
The lofty peaks with brows of snow,
The darksome woods and plains below,
The shining lakes,—all chime and sing
The glory of our Norway’s spring.

The Atheist And The Acorn - Anne Kingsmill Finch

Methinks this World is oddly made,
And ev'ry thing's amiss,
A dull presuming Atheist said,
As stretch'd he lay beneath a Shade;
And instanced in this:

At Sea - Ada Cambridge

    When the investing darkness growls,
    And deep reverberates to deep;
    When keyhole whines and chimney howls,
    And all the roofs and windows weep;
    Then, through the doorless walls of sleep,
    The still-sealed ear and shuttered sight,
    Phantoms of memory steal and creep,
    The very ghosts of sound and light —
Dream-visions and dream-voices of a bygone night.

On Meeting an Official Courier to the Capital - Cen Shen

East I look to my homestead, O long, long is the way;

Praise of Little Women - Juan Ruíz

I wish to make my sermon brief,—to shorten my oration,—
For a never-ending sermon is my utter detestation;
I like short women,—suits at law without procrastination,—
And am always most delighted with things of short duration.

Sterling Brings It - Dennis Vincent Brutus

From the blue and silver
fading to grey and darkness
over Chicago’s band shell
Sterling brings it

The Hedgehog - Carmen Bernos de Gasztold

Yes, Lord, I prick!
Life is not easy —
But You know that —
and I have too much on my shoulders!

Drinking alone with the moon - Li Bai

From a pot of wine among the flowers
I drank alone. There was no one with me —
Till, raising my cup, I asked the bright moon
To bring me my shadow and make us three.

Sonnet XIX - John Milton

When I consider how my light is spent,
Ere half my days, in this dark world and wide,

The Runaway - Evaleen Stein

A frantic clatter of horses' feet!
A runaway's coming down the street!
         Flurry, scurry,
         Children, hurry!

The Lily Bed - Isabella Valancy Crawford

His cedar paddle, scented, red,
He thrust down through the lily bed;

Invocation of Ireland - Amergin Glúingel

I request the land of Ireland (to come forth)
coursed is the wild sea
wild the crying mountains
crying the generous woods

’Tis The Feast Of Corn - Paul Verlaine

’Tis the feast of corn, ’tis the feast of bread,
   On the dear scene returned to, witnessed again!
So white is the light o’er the reapers shed
   Their shadows fall pink on the level grain.

Anthony and Cleopatra - Jose-Maria de Heredia

Together from the terrace they could see
Egypt bed down beneath a sultry sky;
through the black delta, fatly, massively,
to Saïs or Bubastis, Nile rolled by.

Arrival of the Emperor - Osmer Eder Balam

I know how much you wish to see me fall;
That in my life’s biography, death overshadows my feet
But speak not ill words that poison the wind
For you waste your energy, my author of deceit.

Fear Not, Dear Friend, But Freely Live Your Days - Robert Louis Stevenson

Fear not, dear friend, but freely live your days
Though lesser lives should suffer. Such am I,
A lesser life, that what is his of sky

Eurunderee - Henry Lawson

There are scenes in the distance where beauty is not,
On the desolate flats where gaunt appletrees rot.
Where the brooding old ridge rises up to the breeze
From his dark lonely gullies of stringy-bark trees,
There are voice-haunted gaps, ever sullen and strange,
But Eurunderee lies like a gem in the range.

The Veteran - Esaias Tegnér

I love the old heroic times
  Of Charles the Twelfth, our country’s glory,
And deem them fittest for the scenes
  Of stern or tender story;

Scythe Song - Andrew Lang

Mowers, weary and brown, and blithe,
What is the word methinks ye know —
Endless over-word that the scythe
Sings to the blades of the grass below?

The Himalayas (The Hunter and the Hero - Book V) - Bhāravi

The towering Himalaya rose,
   Surpassing mighty Meru high,
To view the limits of wide space,
   Perchance to scale the lofty sky!