Poems about tiger-lilies (8 Poems)


    April (Nancy Byrd Turner Poems)

    The April house was near a pond;  It was made of reeds and of rushes,  All helter-skelter and out of kelter,  And ringed by gooseberry bushes.  The April Fool on the chimney sat,  In pointed shoes and a pointed hat,  And welcomed the three with a … Continue reading



    The Sun-Dial (Henry Austin Dobson Poems)

    ‘Tis an old dial, dark with many a stain; In summer crowned with drifting orchard bloom,Tricked in the autumn with the yellow rain, And white in winter like a marble tomb. And round about its gray, time-eaten brow Lean letters speak,–a worn and … Continue reading



    The Deserted Garden (Alan Seeger Poems)

    I know a village in a far-off landWhere from a sunny, mountain-girdled plainWith tinted walls a space on either handAnd fed by many an olive-darkened laneThe high-road mounts, and thence a silver bandThrough vineyard slopes above and rolling grain,Winds off … Continue reading



    Cleopatra (Clark Ashton Smith Poems)

    Thy beauty is the warmth and languor of an orient autumn,Caressing all the senses-With light from skies of heavy azure,With perfume from blossoms large as thuribles,That hang in the berylline dusk of palms;With the balmy kiss of wind and wave … Continue reading



    Cleopetra (Clark Ashton Smith Poems)

    Thy beauty is the warmth and languor of an orient autumn,Caressing all the senses-With light from skies of heavy azure,With perfume from blossoms large as thuribles,That hang in the berylline dusk of palms;With the balmy kiss of wind and wave … Continue reading



    The Deserted Garden (Alan Seeger Poems)

    I know a village in a far-off land Where from a sunny, mountain-girdled plain With tinted walls a space on either hand And fed by many an olive-darkened lane The high-road mounts, and thence a silver band Through vineyard slopes … Continue reading



    Epilogue (David Herbert Lawrence Poems)

    Patience, little Heart. One day a heavy, June-hot woman Will enter and shut the door to stay. And when your stifling heart would summon Cool, lonely night, her roused breasts will keep the night at bay, Sitting in your room … Continue reading



    The Chinese Nightingale (Vachel Lindsay Poems)

    A Song in Chinese Tapestries “How, how,” he said. “Friend Chang,” I said, “San Francisco sleeps as the dead- Ended license, lust and play: Why do you iron the night away? Your big clock speaks with a deadly sound, With … Continue reading