Poem Lake | Page 5 | The Greatest Poems of All Time

Poems of Charles Baudelaire/Spleen I'm like some king in whose corrupted veins Flows agèd blood; who rules a land of rains; Who, young in years, is old in all distress; Who flees good counsel to find weariness Among his... Poet:	Poems of Charles Baudelaire/Sunset Fair is the sun when first he flames above, Flinging his joy down in a happy beam; And happy he who can salute with love ... Poet:	Poems of Charles Baudelaire/The Death of Lovers There shall be couches whence faint odours rise, Divans like sepulchres, deep and profound; Strange flowers that bloomed... Poet:	Poems of Charles Baudelaire/The Ideal Not all the beauties in old prints vignetted, Those worthless products of an outworn age, With slippered feet and fingers... Poet:
Poems of Charles Baudelaire/The Soul of Wine "To thy wife's eyes I'll bring their long-lost gleam, I'll bring back to thy child his strength and light, To him, life's fragile athlete I will seem ... Poet:	Poems of Childhood/Armenian Lullaby If thou wilt shut thy drowsy eyes, My mulberry one, my golden sun! The rose shall sing thee lullabies, My pretty cosset lambkin! And thou shalt swing in an almond-tree, With a flood of moonbeams rocking thee---... Poet:	Poems of Childhood/At the Door I thought myself, indeed, secure, So fast the door, so firm the lock; But, lo! he toddling comes to lure My parent ear with timorous knock. My heart were stone could it withstand The sweetness of my... Poet:	Poems of Childhood/Beard and Baby I say, as one who never feared The wrath of a subscriber's bullet, I pity him who has a beard But has no little girl to pull it! When wife and I have finished tea, Our baby woos me with her prattle,... Poet:
Poems of Childhood/Christmas Treasures I count my treasures o'er with care,--- The little toy my darling knew, A little sock of faded hue, A little lock of golden hair. Long years ago this holy time, My little one---my all to me--- ... Poet:	Poems of Childhood/Cobbler and Stork COBBLER Stork, I am justly wroth, For thou hast wronged me sore; The ash roof-tree that shelters thee Shall shelter thee no more! STORK Full fifty years I 've dwelt ... Poet: