All Poems
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Sonnet III: To a Nightingale
© Charlotte Turner Smith
Poor melancholy bird---that all night long
Tell'st to the Moon, thy tale of tender woe;
From what sad cause can such sweet sorrow flow,
And whence this mournful melody of song?
Sonnet I
© Charlotte Turner Smith
THE partial Muse, has from my earliest hours,
Smil'd on the rugged path I'm doom'd to tread,
Huge Vapours Brood Above the Clifted Shore
© Charlotte Turner Smith
Huge vapours brood above the clifted shore,
Night o'er the ocean settles, dark and mute,
Snow and Ice
© Quincy Troupe
ice sheets sweep this slick mirrored dark place
space as keys that turn in tight, trigger
When All My Five And Country Senses See
© Dylan Thomas
My one and noble heart has witnesses
In all love's countries, that will grope awake;
And when blind sleep drops on the spying senses,
The heart is sensual, though five eyes break.
The Force That Through The Green Fuse Drives The Flower
© Dylan Thomas
The force that through the green fuse drives the flower
Drives my green age; that blasts the roots of trees
Is my destroyer.
And I am dumb to tell the crooked rose
My youth is bent by the same wintry fever.
Among Those Killed In The Dawn Raid Was A Man Aged A Hundred
© Dylan Thomas
When the morning was waking over the war
He put on his clothes and stepped out and he died,
A Refusal To Mourn The Death, By Fire, Of A Child In London
© Dylan Thomas
Never until the mankind making
Bird beast and flower
Fathering and all humbling darkness
Tells with silence the last light breaking
And the still hour
Is come of the sea tumbling in harness
To Virgil, Written at the Request of the Mantuans for the N
© Alfred Tennyson
Poet of the happy Tityrus
piping underneath his beechen bowers;
Poet of the poet-satyr
whom the laughing shepherd bound with flowers;
Song of the Lotos-Eaters
© Alfred Tennyson
THERE is sweet music here that softer falls
Than petals from blown roses on the grass,
Princess: A Medley: The splendour falls on castle walls
© Alfred Tennyson
O love, they die in yon rich sky,
They faint on hill or field or river:
Our echoes roll from soul to soul,
And grow for ever and for ever.
Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying,
And answer, echoes, answer, dying, dying, dying.
Of Old Sat Freedom
© Alfred Tennyson
Of old sat Freedom on the heights,
The thunders breaking at her feet:
Above her shook the starry lights:
She heard the torrents meet.
O that 'twere possible
© Alfred Tennyson
O THAT 'twere possible
After long grief and pain
To find the arms of my true love
Round me once again!...
Memoriam A. H. H.: 72. Risest thou thus, dim dawn, again
© Alfred Tennyson
Who might'st have heaved a windless flame
Up the deep East, or, whispering, play'd
A chequer-work of beam and shade
Along the hills, yet look'd the same.
Memoriam A. H. H.: 67. When on my bed the moonlight fall
© Alfred Tennyson
And then I know the mist is drawn
A lucid veil from coast to coast,
And in the dark church like a ghost
Thy tablet glimmers to the dawn.
Memoriam A. H. H.: 44. How fares it with the happy dead?
© Alfred Tennyson
If such a dreamy touch should fall,
O turn thee round, resolve the doubt;
My guardian angel will speak out
In that high place, and tell thee all.
In Memoriam A. HIn Memoriam A. H. H.: 56. So careful of the type? but no.: 55. The wish, that of the living whol
© Alfred Tennyson
Who trusted God was love indeed
And love Creation's final law--
Tho' Nature, red in tooth and claw
With ravine, shriek'd against his creed--
In Memoriam A. H. H.: The Prelude
© Alfred Tennyson
Thou seemest human and divine,
The highest, holiest manhood, thou.
Our wills are ours, we know not how,
Our wills are ours, to make them thine.
In Memoriam A. H. H.: Is it, then, regret for buried time
© Alfred Tennyson
Yet less of sorrow lives in me
For days of happy commune dead;
Less yearning for the friendship fled,
Than some strong bond which is to be.
In Memoriam A. H. H.: 99. Risest thou thus, dim dawn, again
© Alfred Tennyson
Who wakenest with thy balmy breath
To myriads on the genial earth,
Memories of bridal, or of birth,
And unto myriads more, of death.
