Age poems
/ page 48 of 145 /From Evangeline
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
All was ended now, the hope, and the fear, and the sorrow,
All the aching of heart, the restless, unsatisfied longing,
All the dull, deep pain, and constant anguish of patience!
And, as she pressed once more the lifeless head to her bosom,
Meekly she bowed her own, and murmured,
Father, I thank thee!
Childrens Children
© William Barnes
Oh! if my ling'rèn life should run,
Drough years a-reckoned ten by ten,
The Last Ditch
© Edith Nesbit
LOVE, through your varied views on Art
Untiring have I followed you,
Content to know I had your heart
And was your Art-ideal, too.
The Ring And The Book - Chapter XI - Guido
© Robert Browning
YOU ARE the Cardinal Acciaiuoli, and you,
Abate Panciatichitwo good Tuscan names:
Our Abode In Arby Wood
© William Barnes
Though ice do hang upon the willows
Out bezide the vrozen brook,
River Road
© Stanley Kunitz
That year of the cloud, when my marriage failed,
I slept in a chair, by the flagstone hearth,
Last before America
© Louis MacNeice
A spiral of green hay on the end of a rake:
The moment is sweat and sun-prick---children and old women
Big in a tiny field, midgets against the mountain,
So toy-like yet so purposed you could take
This for the Middle Ages.
Don Juan: Canto The Fourteenth
© George Gordon Byron
If from great nature's or our own abyss
Of thought we could but snatch a certainty,
Eternal
© Nikolai Stepanovich Gumilev
Im in the days embracing limits,
Where even skies are ever gray,
Look through the ages, live in minutes,
And wait for Holy Saturday;
The Pleasures of Memory - Part I.
© Samuel Rogers
Twilight's soft dews steal o'er the village-green,
With magic tints to harmonize the scene.
Still'd is the hum that thro' the hamlet broke,
When round the ruins of their antient oak
Auld Maitland
© Andrew Lang
There lived a king in southern land,
King Edward hight his name;
Unwordily he wore the crown,
Till fifty years were gane.
Love's History
© George MacDonald
Love, the baby,
Crept abroad to pluck a flower:
One said, Yes, sir; one said, Maybe;
One said, Wait the hour.
A Sicilian Idyll
© Thomas Sturge Moore
Cydilla
Thanks, Damon; now, by Zeus, thou art so brisk,
It shames me that to stoop should try my bones.
The Spirit Of Discovery By Sea - Book The Third
© William Lisle Bowles
My heart has sighed in secret, when I thought
That the dark tide of time might one day close,
Hymn For The Celebration At The Laying Of The Cornerstone Of Harvard Memorial Hall, Cambridge, Octob
© Oliver Wendell Holmes
NOT with the anguish of hearts that are breaking
Come we as mourners to weep for our dead;
Grief in our breasts has grown weary of aching,
Green is the turf where our tears we have shed.
Lethe
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
A DUMB, dark region through whose desolate heart
Creeps a dull river with a stagnant flood;
Its skies are sombre-hued, and dreary clouds,
No wind hath ever stirred, hang low and dim
A Vision Of Christ
© George Essex Evans
Then from the purple dark I saw arise,
Silent, the pale form of the Nazarene,
With deathless light of message in His eyes,
And that vast human pity in His mien,
Purer than purest depths of summer skies,
Not less unfathomed and not less serene.