All Poems
/ page 155 of 3210 /Convergence Of The Twain
© Thomas Hardy
In a solitude of the sea
Deep from human vanity,
And the Pride of Life that planned her, stilly couches she.
None Upon Earth I Desire Besides Thee
© John Newton
How tedious and tasteless the hours,
When Jesus no longer I see;
From Home
© George MacDonald
Some men there are who cannot spare
A single tear until they feel
The last cold pressure, and the heel
Is stamped upon the outmost layer.
Untitled Poem - I
© Alan Dugan
Once, one of my students read a book we had.
She was doing a history assignment on
Sir Roland
© Andrew Lang
Whan he cam to his ain luve's bouir
He tirled at the pin,
And sae ready was his fair fause luve
To rise and let him in.
The Claim
© Edith Nesbit
OH! I admit I'm dull and poor,
And plain and gloomy, as you tell me;
And dozens flock around your door
Who in all points but one excel me.
Roses et muguets
© Charles Cros
Dans le vallon quarrose
Leau courante, jallais
Un jour cueillir la rose,
La rose et les muguets.
To William Lloyd Garrison
© John Greenleaf Whittier
CHAMPION of those who groan beneath
Oppression's iron hand:
In view of penury, hate, and death,
I see thee fearless stand.
Undine
© Kenneth Slessor
IN Undine's mirror the cutpurse found
Five candlesticks by magic drowned,
Like boughs of silver . . . and pale as death,
Biting his beard, till the rogue's own breath
Lost in the Flood
© Henry Kendall
WHEN God drave the ruthless waters
From our cornfields to the sea,
"The Undying One" - Canto III
© Caroline Norton
"I went through the world, but I paused not now
At the gladsome heart and the joyous brow:
I went through the world, and I stay'd to mark
Where the heart was sore, and the spirit dark:
And the grief of others, though sad to see,
Was fraught with a demon's joy to me!
Tipperary
© Thomas Osborne Davis
Let Britain boast her British hosts,
About them all right little care we;
Not British seas nor British coasts
Can match the Man of Tipperary!
When Acorns Fall
© Alfred Austin
When acorns fall and swallows troop for flight,
And hope matured slow mellows to regret,
Ease. 1914
© Leon Gellert
The iron is hidden in forgetfulness.
A smoothness comes to men and lies on lands.
Shadows of His Lady
© Jacques Tahureau
What Parian marble that is loveliest,
Can match the whiteness of her brow and breast?
When drew she breath from the Sabaean glade?
Oh happy rock and river, sky and sea,
Gardens, and glades Sabaean, all that be
The far-off splendid semblance of my maid!
The Reformer
© Robert Laurence Binyon
Hyde Park
August from a vault of hollow brass
Steep upon the sullen city glares.
Yellower burns the sick and parching grass,
Shivering in the breath of furnace airs.