Best poems

 / page 57 of 84 /
star nullstar nullstar nullstar nullstar null

Metamorphoses: Book The Ninth

© Ovid

 The End of the Ninth 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

star nullstar nullstar nullstar nullstar null

The Pastime of Pleasure: Of dysposycyon the II. parte of rethoryke - (til the end)

© Stephen Hawes

How he made oblacyon to the goddes Pallas & sayled ouer the tempestous flode. ca. xxxvj.
4921 So longe we rode ouer hyll and valey
4922 Tyll that we came in to a wyldernes
4923 On euery syde there wylde bestes lay

star nullstar nullstar nullstar nullstar null

The Ring And The Book - Chapter IV - Tertium Quid

© Robert Browning

Is so far clear? You know Violante now,
Compute her capability of crime
By this authentic instance? Black hard cold
Crime like a stone you kick up with your foot
I’ the middle of a field?

star nullstar nullstar nullstar nullstar null

Hymn To The Sun

© Matthew Prior

Light of the World, and Ruler of the Year,

With happy Speed begin Thy great Career;

star nullstar nullstar nullstar nullstar null

Maha-Bharata, The Epic Of Ancient India - Book III - Rajasuya - (The Imperial Sacrifice)

© Romesh Chunder Dutt

A curious incident followed the bridal of Draupadi. The five sons of

Pandu returned with her to the potter's house, where they were

star nullstar nullstar nullstar nullstar null

Retrospect: The Jests Of The Clock

© Robert Graves

He had met hours of the clock he never guessed before-
Dumb, dragging, mirthless hours confused with dreams and fear,
Bone-chilling, hungry hours when the Gods sleep and snore,
Bequeathing earth and heaven to ghosts, and will not hear,
And will not hear man groan chained to the sodden ground,
Rotting alive; in feather beds they slumbered sound.

star nullstar nullstar nullstar nullstar null

To His Grace The Duke Of Chandos.

© Mary Barber

Were Kings elective, Realms would sue,
Contending to be sway'd by you.
Yet, tho' no regal Throne is thine,
Thou hast no Reason to repine;
Since Heav'n, that gave the Monarch's Heart,
Bestow'd thee far the nobler Part.

star nullstar nullstar nullstar nullstar null

Lines Written In August

© Thomas Babbington Macaulay

The day of tumult, strife, defeat, was o'er;
Worn out with toil, and noise, and scorn, and spleen,
I slumbered, and in slumber saw once more
A room in an old mansion, long unseen.

star nullstar nullstar nullstar nullstar null

The Discovery Of A Soul

© Edgar Albert Guest

_The proof of a man is the danger test_,

  _That shows him up at his worst or best_.

star nullstar nullstar nullstar nullstar null

The Irish Avatar

© George Gordon Byron


Ere the daughter of Brunswick is cold in her grave,
  And her ashes still float to their home o'er the tide,
Lo! George the triumphant speeds over the wave,
  To the long-cherish'd isle which he loved like his--bride!

star nullstar nullstar nullstar nullstar null

Adam: A Sacred Drama. Act 5.

© William Cowper

Adam.  Restrain, restrain thy step
Whoe'er thou art, nor with thy songs inveigle
Him, who has only cause for ceaseless tears.

star nullstar nullstar nullstar nullstar null

The Minstrel

© Arthur Henry Adams

An Incident in One Act.
PERSONS. THE KING, THE QUEEN, EARL ATHULF, THE MINSTREL.
Heralds, Pages, Men-at-Arms, Sentries. TIME: THE PAST.
SCENE:

star nullstar nullstar nullstar nullstar null

The Farmer's Boy - Summer

© Robert Bloomfield

Here, midst the boldest triumphs of her worth,
NATURE herself invites the REAPERS forth;
Dares the keen sickle from its twelvemonth's rest,
And gives that ardour which in every breast
From infancy to age alike appears,
When the first sheaf its plumy top uprears.

star nullstar nullstar nullstar nullstar null

Sonnet 6

© Richard Barnfield

Sweete Corrall lips, where Natures treasure lies,

The balme of blisse, the soueraigne salue of sorrow,

star nullstar nullstar nullstar nullstar null

Ps: 116

© Thomas Parnell

Ime Pleasd that Heaven hears my cry,

Regards me when I pray,

star nullstar nullstar nullstar nullstar null

Tale XIII

© George Crabbe

hall,
Sires, sons, and sons of sons, were buried all,
She then abounded, and had wealth to spare
For softening grief she once was doom'd to share;
Thus train'd in misery's school, and taught to

star nullstar nullstar nullstar nullstar null

The Pastime of Pleasure : The First Part.

© Stephen Hawes

Here begynneth the passe tyme of pleasure.
Ryyght myghty prynce / & redoubted souerayne
Saylynge forthe well / in the shyppe of grace
Ouer the wawes / of this lyfe vncertayne

star nullstar nullstar nullstar nullstar null

The Force Of Prayer, Or, The Founding Of Bolton, A Tradition

© William Wordsworth

"What is good for a bootless bene?"
With these dark words begins my Tale;
And their meaning is, whence can comfort spring
When Prayer is of no avail?

star nullstar nullstar nullstar nullstar null

Sonnet V. To the River Tweed.

© William Lisle Bowles

O TWEED! a stranger, that with wand'ring feet

O'er hill and dale has journey'd many a mile,