All Poems
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Sorrow
© Dora Sigerson Shorter
Into my heart, Sorrow, you found a way;
Mine enemy, it was bitter to weep and pray;
A Christmas Eve Choral
© Bliss William Carman
Halleluja!
What sound is this across the dark
While all the earth is sleeping? Hark!
Halleluja! Halleluja! Halleluja!
Epistle Of Condolence From A Slave-Lord To A Cotton-Lord
© Thomas Moore
Alas ! my dear friend, what a state of affairs !
How unjustly we both are despoil'd of our rights !
Not a pound of black flesh shall I leave to my heirs,
Nor must you any more work to death little whites.
In thankfull acknowledgment for the letters I received from my husband ovt of England.
© Anne Bradstreet
O thou that hear'st the Prayers of Thine,
And 'mongst them hast regarded Mine,
I Have Been To Hy-Brasail
© Dora Sigerson Shorter
I have been to Hy-Brasail,
And the Land of Youth have seen,
Much laughter have I heard there,
And birds amongst the green.
Sonnet. "I know that thou wilt read what here is writ"
© Frances Anne Kemble
I know that thou wilt read what here is writ,
And yet not know that it is writ for thee;
To My Son
© George Gordon Byron
Those flaxen locks, those eyes of blue
Bright as thy mother's in their hue;
Those rosy lips, whose dimples play
And smile to steal the heart away,
Recall a scene of former joy,
And touch thy fathers heart, my Boy!
The Desire Of Life
© Arthur Symons
O broken, old, weary desire of life,
Unquenchable flame of desire,
Die Ente
© Gotthold Ephraim Lessing
Ente, wahres Bild von mir,
Wahres Bild von meinen Bruedern!
Ente, jetzo schenk ich dir
Auch ein Lied von meinen Liedern.
The Little Home
© Edgar Albert Guest
The little house is not too small
To shelter friends who come to call.
Though low the roof and small its space
It holds the Lord's abounding grace,
And every simple room may be
Endowed with happy memory.
Monody On The Death Of The Right Hon. R. B. Sheridan
© George Gordon Byron
When the last sunshine of expiring day
In summer's twilight weeps itself away,
The Story Of Grumble Tone
© Wilcox Ella Wheeler
There was a boy named Grumble Tone, who ran away to sea.
"I'm sick of things on land," he said, "as sick as I can be,
A life upon the bounding wave is just the life for me!"
But the seething ocean billows failed to stimulate his mirth,
For he did not like the vessel or the dizzy rolling berth,
And he thought the sea was almost as unpleasant as the earth.
'The Seabolt's Volunteers'
© Henry Lawson
They towed the Seabolt down the stream,
And through the harbours mouth;
She spread her wings and sailed away
To seek the sunny South.
The Rose That Blushes Rosy Red
© Christina Georgina Rossetti
The rose that blushes rosy red,
She must hang her head;
The lily that blows spotless white,
She may stand upright.
