Art poems
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The Indications
© Walt Whitman
The singers do not beget-only the POET begets;
The singers are welcom'd, understood, appear often enough-but rare
has the day been, likewise the spot, of the birth of the maker
of poems, the Answerer,
Paris's Second Judgement, Upon The Three Daughters Of My De
© Richard Lovelace
Behold! three sister-wonders, in whom met,
Distinct and chast, the splendrous counterfeit
Of Juno, Venus and the warlike Maid,
Each in their three divinities array'd;
Book Second [School-Time Continued]
© William Wordsworth
THUS far, O Friend! have we, though leaving much
Unvisited, endeavoured to retrace
Don Juan: Canto The First
© George Gordon Byron
I want a hero: an uncommon want,
When every year and month sends forth a new one,
Idyll XVIII. The Bridal of Helen
© Theocritus
"As peers the nascent Morning
Over thy shades, O Night,
When Winter disenchains the land,
And Spring goes forth in white:
So Helen shone above us,
All loveliness and light.
The Fly In The Ointment
© Joseph Furphy
When the great Creator fashion'd us, and saw that we were good,
He commission'd us to dominate the planet as it stood.
But His ordinance meets denial still, and peace remains unknown,
For the Boer is always with us, calling certain lands his own.
Michael Oaktree
© Alfred Noyes
Under an arch of glorious leaves I passed
Out of the wood and saw the sickle moon
Floating in daylight o'er the pale green sea.
IV: To The World
© Benjamin Jonson
A farewell for a Gentlewoman, vertuous and noble
False world, good-night, since thou hast brought
That houre upon my morne of age,
Hence-forth I quit thee from my thought,
Hart-Leap Well
© William Wordsworth
THE Knight had ridden down from Wensley Moor
With the slow motion of a summer's cloud,
And now, as he approached a vassal's door,
"Bring forth another horse!" he cried aloud.
The Hermit
© Thomas Parnell
Far in a wild, unknown to public view,
From youth to age a rev'rend hermit grew;
The moss his bed, the cave his humble cell,
His food the fruits, his drink the crystal well:
Remote from man, with God he pass'd the days,
Pray'r all his bus'ness, all his pleasure praise.
Another
© Richard Lovelace
I.
As I beheld a winter's evening air,
Curl'd in her court-false-locks of living hair,
Butter'd with jessamine the sun left there.
The Praise of Pindar in Imitation of Horace His Second Ode, Book 4
© Abraham Cowley
Pindarum quisquis studet oemulari, &c.
I.
Elegy I. He Arrives at His Retirement in the Country
© William Shenstone
For rural virtues, and for native skies,
I bade Augusta's venal sons farewell;
Now 'mid the trees I see my smoke arise,
Now hear the fountains bubbling round my cell.
Paradise Lost : Book I.
© John Milton
Of Man's first disobedience, and the fruit
Of that forbidden tree whose mortal taste
The Sage Enamoured And The Honest Lady
© George Meredith
Our world believes it stabler if the soft
Are whipped to show the face repentance wears.
Then hear it, in a moan of atheist gloom,
Deplore the weedy growth of hypocrites;
Count Nature devilish, and accept for doom
The chasm between our passions and our wits!
