Best poems
/ page 26 of 84 /Metamorphoses: Book The Second
© Ovid
The End of the Second Book.
Translated into English verse under the direction of
Sir Samuel Garth by John Dryden, Alexander Pope, Joseph Addison,
William Congreve and other eminent hands
Psalm CXVII.
© Henry King
O all ye Nations record,
The Praises of the Lord;
Ye people through the Universe,
Your Makers praise rehearse.
Muiopotmos, Or The Fate Of The Butterflie
© Edmund Spenser
I SING of deadly dolorous debate,
Stir'd vp through wrathfull Nemesis despight,
Aeneid
© Virgil
THE ARGUMENT.- Turnus takes advantage of AEneas's absence,
fires some of his ships (which are transformed into sea nymphs),
and assaults his camp. The Trojans, reduc'd to the last extremities,
send Nisus and Euryalus to recall AEneas; which furnishes the
poet with that admirable episode of their friendship, generosity, and
the conclusion of their adventures.
'Look At The Clock!' : Patty Morgan The Milkmaid's Story
© Richard Harris Barham
And 'still on each evening when pleasure fills up,'
At the old Goat-in-Boots, with Metheglin, each cup,
Mr Pryce, if he's there,
Will get into 'the Chair,'
Love is reckless
© Mewlana Jalaluddin Rumi
Love is reckless; not reason.
Reason seeks a profit.
Love comes on strong,
consuming herself, unabashed.
An Elegy on a Lap-dog
© John Gay
Shock's fate I mourn; poor Shock is now no more,
Ye Muses mourn, ye chamber-maids deplore.
The Corsair
© George Gordon Byron
1.
'Deep in my soul that tender secret dwells,
Lonely and lost to light for evermore,
Save when to thine my heart responsive swells,
Then trembles into silence as before
To The Memory Of The Right Honourable Lord Talbot, Late Chancellor Of Great Britain. Addressed To Hi
© James Thomson
While with the public, you, my Lord, lament
A friend and father lost; permit the muse,
The Letter of Cupid
© Thomas Hoccleve
Hir wordes spoken been so sighingly
And with so pitous cheere and contenance,
That every wight that meeneth trewely
Deemeth that they in herte han swich greuance.
They sayn so importable is hir penance
Ode
© Richard Lovelace
I.
You are deceiv'd; I sooner may, dull fair,
Seat a dark Moor in Cassiopea's chair,
Or on the glow-worm's uselesse light
Isabella; Or, The Pot Of Basil: A Story From Boccaccio
© John Keats
I.
Fair Isabel, poor simple Isabel!
Tanzweise
© Walther von der Vogelweide
"Lady," I said, "this garland wear!
For thou wilt wear it gracefully;
Blossom.
© Arthur Henry Adams
A LONE rose in a garden burned a quivering flame,
But yesterday blindly from out the bud it came;
And now an envious wind with itching fingers leant
And touched its lingering beauty, and the petals went
The Regiment of Princes
© Thomas Hoccleve
Musynge upon the restlees bysynesse
Which that this troubly world hath ay on honde,
Fill The Goblet Again: A Song
© George Gordon Byron
Fill the goblet again! for I never before
Felt the glow which now gladdens my heart to its core;
Let us drink!--who would not?--since, through life's varied round,
In the goblet alone no deception is found.
The Aeneid of Virgil: Book 11
© Publius Vergilius Maro
SCARCE had the rosy Morning raisd her head
Above the waves, and left her watry bed;