English poetry

Nocturne  Tell me all things false are true, Bitter sweet, that false are wise; I will not doubt nor question you;                                I am in a mood for lies. Tell me all things ill turn good;                    Thew and sinew will be stronger Thriving on the deadly food Life proffers for their hunger. Paint love lovely, if you will; Be crafty, sly, deceptive; Here is fertile land to till, Sun seeking, rain receptive. Hold my hand and lie to me; I will not ask you How nor Why; I see death drawing nigh to me Out of the ciorner of my eye. BY : Countee Cullen

Four Elms  Whoever it was that planted them A hundred years ago, Spread roots apart and tamped in earth Would now be great to know Another man, tree-comforted, Waits for their leaves to grow. So cloase they are to the house wall                    He could have had no fear That worn with winter and the weight Of every growing year They might break roof and window down Before his sleep could hear. Yet if they should destroy the house It would not be so wrong: Three generations now had heard Branch lifting and bird song. we take a chance on anything We want to keep for long. By : Paul Engle

Losers If I should pass the tomb of Jonah I would stop their and sit awhile; Because I was swallowed one time deep in the dark And came out alive after all. If I pass the birial spot of nero I shall say to the wind, "Well, well!"_ I would have fiddled in a world of fire, I who have done so many stunts not worth the doing. I am looking for the grave of Sinbad too. I want to shake his ghost-hand and say, "Neither of us died very early, did we?" And the last sleeping-place of Nebuchadnezzar When I arrive there I shall tell the wind: "You ate grass; I have eaten crow Who is better off now or next year?" Jack Cade, John Brown, Jesse James, There too I will stop and sit down for awhile. I think I could tell their headstones: "God, let me remember all good losers." I could ask people to through ashes on their heads In the name of that sergeant at Belleau Woods, Walking into the drumfires, calli...

O What Is That Sound? O what is that sound that so thrills the ear   Down in the valley drumming, drumming? Only the scarlet soldiers, dear,   The soldiers coming. O what is that light I see flashing so clear   Over the distance brightly, brightly? Only the sun on their wepons, dear,   As they step lightly. O what are they doing with all that gear,                                What are they doing this morning, this morning? Only their usual manoeuvres, dear,   As they step lightly. O why have they left the road down there,   Why are they suddenly wheeling, wheeling? Perhaps a change in their orders, dear.   Why are you kneeling? O haven't they stopped for the doctor's care,   Haven't they reined their horses, their horses? Why, They are none of them wounded, dear,   None of these forces. O is it the parson...

The Fox And the Grapes One sunner's day a fox was passing through An orchard; faint he was and hungry, too. When suddenly his keen eye chanced to fall Upon a bunch of grapes above the wall. "Ha! Just the thing!" he said. "Who could resist it!" He eyed the purple cluster - jumped - and missed it. "Ahem!" he coughed. "I'll take more careful aim," And sprang again. Results were much more the same, Although his leaps were desperate and high. At length he paused to wipe a tearful eye, And shrug a shoulder. "I am not so dry, And lunch is bound to come within the hour ... Besides," he said, "I am sure those grapes are sour." THE MORAL IS: We somehow want the peach That always dangles just beyond our reach;                   Until we learn never to be upset With what we find too difficult to get. By:    Joseph Lauren

          Fable of the mountain and the squirrel  The mountain and the squirrel Had a quarrel, And the former called the latter "little prig"; Bun replied,  "You are doubtless very big;                            But all sorts of things and weather Must be taken in togather, To make up a year And a sphere. And I think it no disgrace To occupy my place. If I am not so large as you, You are not so small as I And no half so spry. I will not deny you make A very pretty squirrel track; Talents differ; all is well and wisely put; If i cannot carry forests on my back, Neither can you crack a nut" By ___ Ralph Waldo Emerson

Bonnie George Campbell High upon highlands,   And low upon Tay, Bonnie George Campbell   Rode out on a day; Saddled and bridled,   And gallant to see: Home came his good horse,   But home came not he. Out ran his old mother,   Wild with despair;                                                     Out ran his bonnie bride,   Tearing her hair. He rode saddled and bridled,   With boot to the knee Home came his good horse,   But never came he. "My meadow lies green,    And his corn is unshron, My barn is unbuilt,    And my babe is unborn." He rode saddled and bridled,    Careless and free: Safe home came the saddle,    But never came he. The writer of this poem is unknown...

Crystal Moment   Once or twice this side of death Things can make one hold his breath. From my boyhood I remember A crystal moment of september. A wooded island rang with sounds Of church bells in the throats of hounds. A buck leaped out and took the tide With jewels flowing past each side. With his high head like a tree He swam with in a yard of me. I saw the Forest's holiness On him like a fierce caress.                                   Fear made him lovely past belief, My heart was trembling like a leaf. He leaned towards the land and life With need upon him like a knife. In his wake the hot hounds churned, They streached their muzzles out and yearned. They bayed no more, but swam and throbbed, Hunger drove them since they sobbed. Pursued, pursuers reached the shore And vanished. I saw nothing more. So they passed, a p...

The spider With six small diamonds for his eyes He walks upon the summer skies, Drawing from his silken blousee The lasework of his dwelling house. He lays his staircase as he goes Under his eight thougtful toes And grows with the contransic flower Of his shadowless, thin bower.                        His back legs are a pair of hands, They can spindleout the strands Of a thread that is so small It stops the sunlight, not at all. He spins himself to threads of dew Which will harden soon into Lines that cut like slender knives Across the insects' airy lives. He makes no motion but is right, He spreads out his appetite Into a network, twist on twist, This little ancient scientist. He does not know he is unkind, He has a jewel for a mind And logic deadly as dry bone, This small sun of Euclid's own. By: ___ Robert P. Tristram Coffin

Concord Hymn By the rude bridge that Arched the flood,    Their flag to aprail's breeze unfurled, Here once the embattled farmers stood    And fired the shot heard around the world. The foe long since in scilence selpt;    Alike the conqueror silent sleeps; And Time the ruined bridge has swept    Down the dark stream which seaward creeps.    On this green bank, by this soft stream,    We set to-day a votive stone; That memory may their deed redeem,    When, like our sires, our sons are gone. Spirit, that made that heroes dare    To die, and leave their children free, Bid time and Nature gently spare    The shaft we raise to them and thee. By _____________ Ralph Waldo Emerson

I'm Nobody! Who Are You? I'm Nobody! Who Are You? Are you nobody, too? Then there's a pair of us_don't tell! They would banish us, you know.               How dreary to be somebody! How public like a frog. To tell your name the livelong day To an admiring bog! By__________Emily Dickinson

Adventures of Isabel Isabel met an enormous bear; Isabel,Isabel, didn't care. The bear was hungry,the bear was revenous,                   The bear's big mouth was cruel and cavernous. The bear said, Isabel, great to meet you, How do, Isabel, now i'll eat you! Isabel, Isabel, didn't worry; Isabel didn't scream or scurry. She washed her hand and straightened her hair up, Then Isabel quitely ate the bear up. Once on a night as black as pitch Isabel met a wickedold witch. The witch's face was crossed and wrinkled, The witch's gums with teeth were sprinkled. Ho, ho, Isabel! the old witch crowed, I'll turn you into an ugly toad Isabel, Isabel, didn't worry;  Isabel didn't scream or scurry. She showed no rage and she showed no rancor,                            But she turned the witch into milk and drank her. ...

The Four Little Foxes Speak gently, spring, and make no sudden sound;           For in my windy valley yesterday i found New-born foxes squirming on the ground_        Speak gently. Walk softly, March, forbear the bitter blow; Her feet within a trap, her blood upon the snow, The four little foxes saw there mother go_        Walk softly. Go lightly, Spring, Oh give them no alarm; When I covered them with boughs to shelter them form harm, The thin blue foxes suckled at my arm_        Go lightly. Step softly, March, with your rampant hurricane; Nuzzling one another, and whimpering with pain, The new little foxes are shivering in the rain_        Step softly. By__________________Lew Sarett

Swift Things Are Beautiful Swift things are beautiful: Swallows and deer, And lightening that falls Bright veined and clear, Rivers and meteors, Wind in the wheat, The strong-withered horse, The runner's sure feet. And slow things are beautiful: The closing of day, The pause of the wave The curves downwards to spray, The ember that crumbles, The opening flower, And the ox that moves on In the quite of power. By____________  Elizabeth Coatsworth

The House on the Hill They are all gone away,     The house is shut and still, There is nothing more to say. Through broken walls and gray     The winds blow bleak and shrill:              They are all gone away, Nor is there one today     To speak them good or ill: There is nothing more to say. Why is it then we stray     Around the sunken still? They are all gone away, And our poor fancy-play     For them is wasted skill: There is nothing more to say. There is ruin and decay     In the house on the hill: They are all gone away, There is nothing more to say. By________ Edwin Arlington Robinson

There Will Come Soft Rains There will come soft rains and smell of the ground, And swallows circling with their shimmering sound; And frogs in the pools singing at night, And wild plum-trees in tremulous white. Robins will wear their feathery fire Whistling their whims on a low fence-wire; And not one will know of the war, not one Will care at last when it is done. Not one would mind, neither bird nor tree, If mankind perished wtterly; And spring herself when she woke at dawn Would Scarely know that we were gone. By:    Sara Teasdale

The West Wind It's a warm wind, the west wind, full of birds' cries;    I never hear the west wind but tears are in my eyes. For it comes from the west lands, the old brown hills, And April's in the west wind, and daffodils. It's a fine land, the west land, for hearts as tired as mine, Apple orchards blossom there, and the air's like wine. There is cool green grass there, where men may lie and rest, And the thrushes are in song there, fluting from the nest. "Will ye not come home, brother? ye have been long away, It's April, and blossom time, and white is the spray; And bright is the sun, brother, and warm is the rain._ Will ye not come home, brother, home to us again? "The young corn is green, brother, where the rabbits run, It's blue sky, and white clouds, and warm rain and sun. It's song to a man's soul, brother, fire to a man's brain, To hear the wild be...

میری تحریر کردہ پہلی غزل دو پل تیرے ساتھ کیا گزار لیے صاحب ہم نے بھول کر دی کہ تجھے اپنا ہی سمجھ بیٹھے حال دل ہمارا نہ پوچھے دوستو ان  جانے میں نہ جانے ہم یہ کیا کر بیٹھے ہم جو خدا سے دو قدم دور رہا کرتے تھے کبھی آج تیری بدولت ان کے قریب جا بیٹھے یوں تو تیرا مسکرانا دل کو چھو جاتا ہے میرے من تو کرتا ہے کہ تیرے دل میں ہی جا بیٹھیں تو کہتا ہے کہ انکھوں میں انکھیں ڈال کر بول اتنی ہمت نہیں ہے چاہو تو تیرے پلکھوں میں جا بیٹھیں تو جب بھی کبھی بیٹھنے کے لیے جاۓ کہیں تیرے بیٹھنے سے پہلے وہاں پریاں طواف کر بیٹھیں تو نے کچھ گناہ تو کبھی کیے نہیں ورنہ تیری سزا کاٹنے تیرے قبر میں جا بیٹھیں

The ups and downs of elevator car The elevator car in the elevator shaft, complained of the buzzer, complained of the draft. It said it felt carsick as it rose and fell It said it had a headache from the ringing of the bell. There is spring in the air, sighed the elevator car. Said the elevator man, You are well-off where you are. The car paid no attention but frowned an ugly frown And it started going up when it should be going down Down flashed the signal, but up went the car The elevator man cried, you are going much too far Said the car I am going no such thing. I'm through with buzzers buzzing. I'm looking for the spring. Then the elevator man began to shot and call And all the people came running through the hall The elevator man began to call and shout The car won't stop! let me out! let me out! On went the car past the penthouse door On went the car up one flight more On went the elevator till it came to the top O...