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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”. 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 about Teens available here and we hope you will enjoy reading. The poems about Teens found here you can easily add to the free ecards from our site, and then send ecards to friends. Best Teens poems for you.
To An Orphan Child
A Whimsey
AH, child, thou art but half thy darling mother's;
Hers couldst thou wholly be,
My light in thee would outglow all in others;
She would relive to me.
But niggard Nature's trick of birth
Bars, lest she overjoy,
Renewal of the loved on earth
Save with alloy.
The Dame has no regard, alas, my maiden,
For love and loss like mine--
No sympathy with mind-sight memory-laden;
Only with fickle eyne.
To her mechanic artistry
My dreams are all unknown,
And why I wish that thou couldst be
But One's alone!
Poems by Thomas Hardy
To An Unborn Pauper Child
Breathe not, hid Heart: cease silently,
And though thy birth-hour beckons thee,
Sleep the long sleep:
The Doomsters heap
Travails and teens around us here,
And Time-Wraiths turn our songsingings to fear.
Hark, how the peoples surge and sigh,
And laughters fail, and greetings die;
Hopes dwindle; yea,
Faiths waste away,
Affections and enthusiasms numb:
Thou canst not mend these things if thou dost come.
Had I the ear of wombed souls
Ere their terrestrial chart unrolls,...
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Poems by Thomas Hardy
To Gavin Hamilton, Esq., Mauchline, recommending a Boy
I hold it, sir, my bounden duty
To warn you how that Master Tootie,
Alias, Laird MGaun,
Was here to hire yon lad away
Bout whom ye spak the tither day,
An wad hae dont aff han;
But lest he learn the callan tricks
An faith I muckle doubt him
Like scrapin out auld Crummies nicks,
An tellin lies about them;
As lieve then, Id have then
Your clerkship he should sair,
If sae be ye may be
Not fitted otherwhere.
Altho I sayt, hes gleg enough,
An bout a house thats rude an rough,...
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Poems by Robert Burns
To his saviour, a child;a present, by a child
Go, pretty child, and bear this flower
Unto thy little Saviour;
And tell him, by that bud now blown,
He is the Rose of Sharon known.
When thou hast said so, stick it there
Upon his bib or stomacher;
And tell him, for good handsel too,
That thou hast brought a whistle new,
Made of a clean straight oaten reed,
To charm his cries at time of need;
Tell him, for coral, thou hast none,
But if thou hadst, he should have one;
But poor thou art, and known to be
Even as moneyless as he.
Lastly, if thou canst win a kiss
From those melifluous lips of his;--
Then never take a second on,
To spoil the first impression.
Poems by Robert Herrick
To His Two Children
In the land of Wu the mulberry leaves are green,
And thrice the silkworms have gone to sleep.
In East Luh where my family stay,
I wonder who is sowing those fields of ours.
I cannot be back in time for the spring doings,
Yet I can help nothing, traveling on the river.
The south wind blowing wafts my homesick spirit
And carries it up to the front of our familiar tavern.
There I see a peach tree on the east side of the house
With thick leaves and branches waving in the blue mist.
It is the tree I planted before my parting three years ago.
The peach tree has grown now as tall as the tavern roof,
While I have wandered about without returning.
Ping-yang, my pretty daughter, I see you stand
By the peach tree and pluck a flowering branch.
You pluck the flowers, but I am not there
How your tears flow like a stream of water!...
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Poems by Li Po
To My Name-Child
1
Some day soon this rhyming volume, if you learn with proper speed,
Little Louis Sanchez, will be given you to read.
Then you shall discover, that your name was printed down
By the English printers, long before, in London town.
In the great and busy city where the East and West are met,
All the little letters did the English printer set;
While you thought of nothing, and were still too young to play,
Foreign people thought of you in places far away.
Ay, and when you slept, a baby, over all the English lands
Other little children took the volume in their hands;
Other children questioned, in their homes across the seas:
Who was little Louis, won't you tell us, mother, please?...
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Poems by Robert Louis Stevenson
To The Honourable T. H. Esq; On the Death Of His Daughter
While deep you mourn beneath the cypress-shade
The hand of Death, and your dear daughter
laid
In dust, whose absence gives your tears to flow,
And racks your bosom with incessant woe,
Let Recollection take a tender part,
Assuage the raging tortures of your heart,
Still the wild tempest of tumultuous grief,
And pour the heav'nly nectar of relief:
Suspend the sigh, dear Sir, and check the groan,
Divinely bright your daughter's Virtues shone:
How free from scornful pride her gentle mind,
Which ne'er its aid to indigence declin'd!
Expanding free, it sought the means to prove
Unfailing charity, unbounded love!
She unreluctant flies to see no more
Her dear-lov'd parents on earth's dusky shore:...
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Poems by Phillis Wheatley
We Two Boys Together Clinging
We two boys together clinging,
One the other never leaving,
Up and down the roads goingNorth and South excursions making,
Power enjoyingelbows stretchingfingers clutching,
Armd and fearlesseating, drinking, sleeping, loving,
No law less than ourselves owningsailing, soldiering, thieving, threatening,
Misers, menials, priests alarmingair breathing, water drinking, on the turf or the
sea-beach
dancing,
Cities wrenching, ease scorning, statutes mocking, feebleness chasing,
Fulfilling our foray.
Poems by Walt Whitman
When i was a boy
Up in the attic where I slept
When I was a boy, a little boy,
In through the lattice the moonlight crept,
Bringing a tide of dreams that swept
Over the low, red trundle-bed,
Bathing the tangled curly head,
While moonbeams played at hide-and-seek
With the dimples on the sun-browned cheek -
When I was a boy, a little boy!
And, oh! the dreams; the dreams I dreamed!
When I was a boy, a little boy!
For the grace that through the lattice streamed
Over my folded eyelids seemed
To have the gift of prophecy,
And to bring me glimpses of times to be...
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Poems by Eugene Field
Tags from Poems Teens
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