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Random Poem


The random poem generator takes the first lines of nearly 3,900 poems to make a new poem. To see the full list of what's included, click here.

Let me thy Properties explain,
Hope, art thou true, or doest thou flatter me?
With blackest moss the flower-plots
Bards of the Future! you that come
How frail
Sad Hesper o'er the buried sun
Supper comes at five o'clock,
While some affect the sun, and some the shade.

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History is the version of past events that people have decided to agree upon.
— Napoleon Bonaparte