All Poems
/ page 178 of 3210 /
Lines Written In The Album At Elbingerode, In The Hartz Forest
© Samuel Taylor Coleridge
I stood on Brocken's sovran height, and saw
Woods crowding upon woods, hills over hills
A surging scene, and only limited
By the blue distance. Heavily my way
The Art Of War. Book III.
© Henry James Pye
Your footsteps now the arsenals have trod
Where lie the treasures of the warrior God;
Yet 'midst his ranks to serve is little fame,
Little avails the soldier's ardent flame,
Unless to all the heights of art you climb,
And reach of martial skill the true sublime.
An Indian Story
© William Cullen Bryant
"I know where the timid fawn abides
In the depths of the shaded dell,
Where the leaves are broad and the thicket hides,
With its many stems and its tangled sides,
From the eye of the hunter well.
D'Iberville
© Nérée Beauchemin
Dans un trombe de fumée
Que des éclairs intermittents
Font paraître tout enflammée,
S'entrechoquent les combattants.
To Goethe
© Robert Laurence Binyon
Goethe, who saw and who foretold
A world revealed
New--springing from its ashes old
On Valmy field,
To Mrs. Putland.
© Mary Barber
Uncommon Charms, I plainly see,
Compleat the Fair for Tyranny.
Then, lest your Form should make you vain
Of Conquest, and of giving Pain,
Those, whom your Beauties have enslav'd,
By me shall now be undeceiv'd.
Bigotry's Victim
© Percy Bysshe Shelley
I.
Dares the lama, most fleet of the sons of the wind,
The lion to rouse from his skull-covered lair?
When the tiger approaches can the fast-fleeting hind
A Bird From The West
© Dora Sigerson Shorter
At the grey dawn, amongst the falling leaves,
A little bird outside my window swung,
High on a topmost branch he trilled his song,
And " Ireland! Ireland! Ireland!" ever sung.
Translated Out Of Gazaeus, "Vota Amico Facta," Fol. 160
© John Donne
GOD grant thee thine own wish, and grant thee mine,
Thou who dost, best friend, in best things outshine ;
I Gave My Heart To A Woman
© William Ernest Henley
I gave my heart to a woman
I gave it her, branch and root.
She bruised, she wrung, she tortured,
She cast it under foot.
The House Of Splendour
© Ezra Pound
Tis Evanoe's,
A house not made with hands,
But out somewhere beyond the worldly ways
Her gold is spread, above, around, inwoven;
Strange ways and walls are fashioned out of it.
Celebrating The Virtue Of King Wan's Bride
© Confucius
Hark! from the islet in the stream the voice
Of the fish-hawks that o'er their nests rejoice!
From them our thoughts to that young lady go,
Modest and virtuous, loth herself to show.
Where could be found to share our prince's state,
So fair, so virtuous, and so fit a mate?
Home They Brought Her Warrior Dead
© Alfred Tennyson
Home they brought her warrior dead:
She nor swooned, nor uttered cry:
All her maidens, watching, said,
She must weep or she will die.
Der philosophische Trinker
© Gotthold Ephraim Lessing
Mein Freund, der Narr vom philosophschen Orden,
Hat sich bekehrt, und ist ein Trinker worden.
"I have to make a soul for one"
© Lesbia Harford
I have to make a soul for one
Who lost his soul in childhood's hour.
And I'm not surenot really sure
If I have power.
On Leaving Bath.
© Mary Barber
The Britons, in their Nature shy,
View Strangers with a distant Eye:
We think them partial and severe;
And judge their Manners by their Air:
Are undeceiv'd by Time alone;
Their Value rises, as they're known.
We'll Go Down Ourselves
© Henry Clay Work
"What shall we do? What shall we do?
Why, lay them on the shelves,
And we'll go down ourselves,
And teach the rebels something new,
And teach the rebels something new."
