Poem Lake | The Greatest Poems of All Time

All people on board! [356] All people on board! Das ist nämlich so in Berlin: Einer ist plötzlich für Biographien. Und aus einem... Poet: Kurt Tucholsky	The Decay of a People This the true sign of ruin to a race— It undertakes no march, and day by day Drowses in camp, or, with the laggard’s pace, Walks sentry o’er possessions that decay; Destined, with sensible waste, to fleet away;— For the first secret of continued... Poet: William Gilmore Simms	From "The Song of the Ancient People" We are the Ancient People; Our father is the Sun; Our mother, the Earth, where the mountains tower And the rivers seaward run; The stars are the children of the sky, The red men of the plain; And ages over us both had rolled Before... Poet: Edna Dean Proctor	Books for the people "Let there be light." Light to the darkened mind Bear, like the sun, the world's wide circle round, Bright messengers that speak without a sound! ... Poet:
Do People moulder equally, Do People moulder equally, They bury, in the Grave? I do believe a Species As positively live As I, who testify it Deny that I — am dead — And fill my Lungs, for Witness — From Tanks —... Poet:	Her sovereign People Her sovereign People Nature knows as well And is as fond of signifying As if fallible — Poet:	I know of people in the Grave I know of people in the Grave Who would be very glad To know the news I know tonight If they the chance had had. 'Tis this expands the least event And swells the scantest deed — My right to walk upon... Poet:	I noticed People disappeared I noticed People disappeared When but a little child — Supposed they visited remote Or settled Regions wild — But did because they died A Fact withheld the little child — Poet:
Some people admire the work of a Fool * Some people admire the work of a Fool For its sure to keep your judgment cool It does not reproach you with want of wit It is not like a lawyer serving a writ Poet:	The feet of people walking home The feet of people walking home - With gayer sandals go - The Crocus, till she rises The Vassal of the snow - The lips at Hallelujah Long years of practise bore - Till bye and bye these Bargemen... Poet: