Beauty poems
/ page 81 of 313 /
The Apple Tree
© Edgar Albert Guest
When an apple tree is ready
for the world to come and eat,
There isn't any structure
in the land that's "got it beat."
The Bourne
© Christina Georgina Rossetti
Underneath the growing grass,
Underneath the living flowers,
Deeper than the sound of showers:
There we shall not count the hours
By the shadows as they pass.
Inscriptions: IX: Me Tho' In Life's Sequester'd Vale
© Mark Akenside
Me tho' in life's sequester'd vale
The Almighty sire ordain'd to dwell,
The Prayer
© Dora Sigerson Shorter
"Many worlds have I made," said the Good God,
"But this is best of all,"
Lockerbie Street
© Bliss William Carman
For The Brthday Of James Whitcomb Riley, October 7, 1914
LOCKERBIE STREET is a little street,
Just one block long;
But the days go there with a magical air,
Lines Written Under The Conviction That It Is Not Wise To Read Mathematics In November After Ones F
© James Clerk Maxwell
In the sad November time,
When the leaf has left the lime,
July
© Madison Julius Cawein
Now 'tis the time when, tall,
The long blue torches of the bellflower gleam
Among the trees; and, by the wooded stream.
In many a fragrant ball.
Blooms of the button-bush fall.
The Unhappy Lot Of Mr. Knott
© James Russell Lowell
My worthy friend, A. Gordon Knott,
From business snug withdrawn,
Was much contented with a lot
That would contain a Tudor cot
'Twixt twelve feet square of garden-plot,
And twelve feet more of lawn.
The Murdered Lover
© Paul Laurence Dunbar
Say a mass for my soul's repose, my brother,
Say a mass for my soul's repose, I need it,
Lovingly lived we, the sons of one mother,
Mine was the sin, but I pray you not heed it.
The Ministers Daughter
© John Greenleaf Whittier
In the minister's morning sermon
He had told of the primal fall,
And how thenceforth the wrath of God
Rested on each and all.
From the Persian of Hafiz I
© Ralph Waldo Emerson
Butler, fetch the ruby wine,
Which with sudden greatness fills us;
Arcadia Rediviva
© James Russell Lowell
I, walking the familiar street,
While a crammed horse-car jingled through it,
Was lifted from my prosy feet
And in Arcadia ere I knew it.
Woman
© Fitz-Greene Halleck
LADY, although we have not met,
And may not meet, beneath the sky;
And whether thine are eyes of jet,
Gray, or dark blue, or violet,
Or hazelheaven knows, not I;
To Perdita, Singing
© James Russell Lowell
Thy voice is like a fountain
Leaping up in sunshine bright,
And I never weary counting
Its clear droppings, lone and single,
Or when in one full gush they mingle,
Shooting in melodious light.
Italy : 12. Italy
© Samuel Rogers
Am I in Italy? Is this the Mincius?
Are those the distant turrets of Verona?
And shall I sup where Juliet at the Masque
Saw her loved Montague, and now sleeps by him?
Paulo Purganti And His Wife: An Honest, But A Simple Pair
© Matthew Prior
On marry'd Men, that dare be bad,
She thought no Mercy should be had;
They should be hang'd, or starv'd, or flead,
Or serv'd like Romish Priests in Swede.-
In short, all Lewdness She defy'd:
And stiff was her Parochial Pride.
