Art poems
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Hellas: A Lyrical Drama
© Percy Bysshe Shelley
The curtain of the Universe
Is rent and shattered,
The splendour-wingèd worlds disperse
Like wild doves scattered.
Rose The Red And White Lily
© Andrew Lang
O Rose the Red and White Lilly,
Their mother dear was dead,
And their father married an ill woman,
Wishd them twa little guede.
A Pangyre
© Benjamin Jonson
On the happy entrace of Iames, our Soveraigne, to His first high Session of Parliament in this his Kingdome, the 19 of March, 1603.
Licet toto nunc Helicone frui.
The Little Dog
© Jean de La Fontaine
'TWOULD endless prove, and nothing would avail,
Each lover's pain minutely to detail:
Their arts and wiles; enough 'twill be no doubt,
To say the lady's heart was found so stout,
She let them sigh their precious hours away,
And scarcely seemed emotion to betray.
The Rebel
© Henry Lawson
CALL ME traitor to my country and a rebel to my God.
And the foe of law and order, well deserving of the rod,
But I scorn the biassed sentence from the temples of the creed
That was fouled and mutilated by the ministers of greed,
For the strength that I inherit is the strength of Truth and Right;
Lords of earth! I am immortal in the battles cf the night!
The Teares of the Muses
© Edmund Spenser
Nor since that faire Calliope did lose
Her loued Twinnes, the dearlings of her ioy,
Her Palici, whom her vnkindly foes
The fatall Sisters, did for spight destroy,
Whom all the Muses did bewaile long space;
Was euer heard such wayling in this place.
Behram And Eddetma
© Madison Julius Cawein
Dazzled, six days he sat, a staring trance;
But on the seventh, casting stupor off,
Rose, and the straitness of the case that held
Him as with manacles of knitted fire,
Considered, and decided on a way....
Music
© Boris Pasternak
The block of flats loomed towerlike.
Two sweating athletes, human telpher,
Were carrying up narrow stairs,
As though a bell onto a belfry,
Reynard The Fox - Part 2
© John Masefield
Down in the village men awoke,
The chimneys breathed with a faint blue smoke;
The fox slept on, though tweaks and twitches,
Due to his dreams, ran down his flitches.
Despilfarras El Tiempo...
© Ramon Lopez Velarde
Mis peones tantálicos
Al rondarte a deshora,
Fracasan en sus ímpetus vandálicos.
Sonnet XX: To Mr. Lawrence
© John Milton
Lawrence, of virtuous father virtuous son,
Now that the fields are dank, and ways are mire,
Where shall we sometimes meet, and by the fire
Help waste a sullen day, what may be won
Idylls of the King: The Passing of Arthur (excerpt)
© Alfred Tennyson
Then spake King Arthur to Sir Bedivere,
And whiter than the mist that all day long
Had held the field of battle was the King:
Tales Of A Wayside Inn : Part 2. The Sicilian's Tale; The Bell of Atri
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
He sold his horses, sold his hawks and hounds,
Rented his vineyards and his garden-grounds,
Kept but one steed, his favorite steed of all,
To starve and shiver in a naked stall,
And day by day sat brooding in his chair,
Devising plans how best to hoard and spare.
Epilogue To Lessing's Laocooen
© Matthew Arnold
One morn as through Hyde Park we walk'd,
My friend and I, by chance we talk'd
Alfred. Book III.
© Henry James Pye
Fix'd on the arid spot, whose scanty bounds
On every side the deep morass surrounds,
The monarch, and his martial friend, with care,
'Gainst close surprise and bold attack prepare;
Exert each art their safety to ensure,
And every pass, with wary eye, secure.
Mostly Slavonic
© Henry Lawson
But they never dreamed, the brainless, boors that used to sneer and scoff,
That the dreamy lad beside themknown as Dutchy Mickyloff
Was a genius and a poet, and a Manno matter which
Was the Czar of all the Russias!Peter Michaelovich.
The Faithful Few: An Ode
© William Hamilton
While Pow'r triumphant bears unrival'd Sway,
Propt by the Aid of all-prevailing Gold;
While bold Corruption blasts the Face of Day,
And Men, in Herds, are offer'd to be sold;
Select, Urania, from the venal Throng,
The Faithful Few, to grace the deathless Song!
A Fable For Critics
© James Russell Lowell
'Why, nothing of consequence, save this attack
On my friend there, behind, by some pitiful hack,
Who thinks every national author a poor one,
That isn't a copy of something that's foreign,
And assaults the American Dick--'
