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You are now in the place where we share poems of well-known poets, often from the list “Best Poems” and “Best Poets”. Poems are presented in the most popular topic categories. Due to copyright we only present the poems of those poets who passed away some time ago and therefore, you will not find poems of contemporary poets here. We invite you to familiarise yourself with the poems available here and we hope you will enjoy reading. The poems found here you can easily add to the free ecards from our site, and then send ecards to friends. Love poems are particularly great for that. Beautiful poetry added to an ecard can be a lovely surprise for the addressee. Except reading ready poems, you can add your own, original poems here. You only need to sign up for a free User Account. Certainly we all greatly enjoy beautiful poetry and reading poems is a very pleasant past time.

A Winter Sunset



The frosty sky, like a furnace burning,
The keen air, crisp and cold,
And a sunset that splashes the clouds with gold
But my heart to summer turning.

Come back, sweet summer ! come back again !
I hate the snow,
And the icy winds that the north lands blow,
And the fall of the frozen rain.

I hate the iron ground,
And the Christmas roses,
And the sickly day that dies when it closes,
With never a song or a sound.

Come back ! come back ! with your passionate heat
And glowing hazes,
And your sun that shines as a lover gazes,
And your day with the tired feet.

Poems by Lord Alfred Douglas

Autumn Days



I have been through the woods to-day
And the leaves were falling,
Summer had crept away,
And the birds were not calling.

And the bracken was like yellow gold
That comes too late,
When the heart is sad and old,
And death at the gate.

Ah, mournful Autumn ! Sad,
Slow death that comes at last,
I am mad for a yesterday, mad !
I am sick for a year that is past!

Though the sun be like blood in the sky
He is cold as the lips of hate,...

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Poems by Lord Alfred Douglas

Ode To Autumn



Thou sombre lady of down-bended head,
And weary lashes drooping to the cheek,
With sweet sad fold of lips uncomforted,
And listless hands more tired with strife than meek ;
Turn here thy soft brown feet, and to my heart,
Unmatched to Summer's golden minstrelsy,
Or Spring's shrill pipe of joy, sing once again
Sad songs, and I to thee
Well tuned, will answer that according part
That jarred with those young seasons' gladder strain.

Give me thy empty branches for the biers
Of perished joys, thy winds to sigh my sighs,
Thy falling leaves to count my falling tears,
And all thy mists to dim my aching eyes.
There is no comfort in thy lips, and none
In thy cold arms, nor pity in thy breast,
But better 'tis in gray hours to have grief,...

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Poems by Lord Alfred Douglas

Spring



Wake up again, sad heart, wake up again !
(I heard the birds this morning singing sweet.)
Wake up again ! The sky was crystal clear,
And washed quite clean with rain ;
And tar below my heart stirred with the year,
Stirred with the year and sighed. O pallid feet
Move now at last, O heart that sleeps with pain
Rise up and hear
The voices in the valleys, run to meet
The songs and shadows. O wake up again !

Put out green leaves, dead tree, put out green leaves t
(Last night the moon was soft and kissed the air.)
Put out green leaves ! The moon was in the skies,
All night she wakes and weaves.
The dew was on the grass like fairies' eyes,
Like fairies' eyes. O trees so black and bare,...

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Poems by Lord Alfred Douglas

To Sleep



Ah, Sleep, to me thou com'st not in the guise
Of one who brings good gifts to weary men,
Balm for bruised hearts and fancies alien
To unkind truth, and drying for sad eyes.
I dread the summons to that fierce assize
Of all my foes and woes, that waits me when
Thou mak'st my soul the unwilling denizen
Of thy dim troubled house where unrest lies.

My soul is sick with dreaming, let it rest.
False Sleep, thou hast conspired with Wakefulness,
I will not praise thee, I too long beguiled
With idle tales. Where is thy soothing breast ?
Thy peace, thy poppies, thy forgetfulness ?
Where is thy lap for me so tired a child ?

Poems by Lord Alfred Douglas

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