Best poems
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Elegy XV. In Memory of a Private Family in Worcestershire
© William Shenstone
From a lone tower, with reverend ivy crown'd,
The pealing bell awaked a tender sigh;
Still, as the village caught the waving sound,
A swelling tear distream'd from every eye.
The Harp Of Hoel
© William Lisle Bowles
It was a high and holy sight,
When Baldwin and his train,
With cross and crosier gleaming bright,
Came chanting slow the solemn rite,
To Gwentland's pleasant plain.
On The Death Of The Right Honourable The Lord Viscount Bayning
© William Strode
Though after Death, Thanks lessen into Praise,
And Worthies be not crown'd with gold, but bayes;
Shall we not thank? To praise Thee all agree;
We Debtors must out doe it, heartily.
On The Death Of Sir Tho: Peltham
© William Strode
Meerly for man's death to mourne
Were to repine that man was borne.
When weake old age doth fall asleepe
Twere foule ingratitude to weepe:
On The Death Of Mrs. Mary Neudham
© William Strode
As sinn makes gross the soule and thickens it
To fleshy dulness, so the spotless white
Of virgin pureness made thy flesh as cleere
As others soules: thou couldst not tarry heere
Consolatorium, Ad Parentes
© William Strode
Lett her parents then confesse
That they beleeve her happinesse,
Which now they question. Thinke as you
Lent her the world, Heaven lent her you:
Upon a Fit of Sickness
© Anne Bradstreet
Twice ten years old not fully told
since nature gave me breath,
My race is run, my thread spun,
lo, here is fatal death.
The House Delirious
© Leon Gellert
These corridors! These corridors and halls!
This change of light and gathered mystery:
These whisperings; this silent dust that palls
The buried gone are mine-a solemn property.
Meditations Divine and Moral
© Anne Bradstreet
A ship that bears much sail, and little ballast, is easily
overset; and that man, whose head hath great abilities, and his
heart little or no grace, is in danger of foundering.
The finest bread has the least bran; the purest honey, the
The Transparent Man
© Anthony Evan Hecht
I'm mighty glad to see you, Mrs. Curtis,
And thank you very kindly for this visit--
Especially now when all the others here
Are having holiday visitors, and I feel
I Was Sick And In Prison
© Jones Very
Thou hast not left the rough-barked tree to grow
Without a mate upon the river's bank;
The God And The Bayadere.
© Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
[This very fine Ballad was also first given in the Horen.]
(MAHADEVA is one of the numerous names of Seeva, the destroyer,--
the great god of the Brahmins.)
The Exchange.
© Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
That lovingly hastens to fall on my breast.
Then fickleness soon bids it onwards be flowing;
A second draws nigh, its caresses bestowing,--
Tales Of A Wayside Inn : The Theologian's Tale; The Legend Beautiful
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Straightway to his feet he started,
And with longing look intent
On the Blessed Vision bent,
Slowly from his cell departed,
Slowly on his errand went.
On The New Year
© Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
------
What we sing in company
Soon from heart to heart will fly.
-----
Jupiter And Fortune.
© Mary Barber
Enough--the Thunderer reply'd;
But say, whom have you satisfy'd?
These boasted Gifts are thine, I own;
But know, Content is mine alone.
The Pupil In Magic.
© Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
I AM now,--what joy to hear it!--Of the old magician rid;
And henceforth shall ev'ry spiritDo whate'er by me is bid;I have watch'd with rigourAll he used to do,And will now with vigourWork my wonders too.
Wander, wanderOnward lightly,So that rightlyFlow the torrent,And with teeming waters yonderIn the bath discharge its current!And now come, thou well-worn broom,And thy wretched form bestir;
Thou hast ever served as groom,So fulfil my pleasure, sir!On two legs now stand,With a head on top;Waterpail in hand,Haste, and do not stop!
Dedication.
© Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
By new-born flow'rs that full of dew-drops hung;
The youthful day awoke with ecstacy,
And all things quicken'd were, to quicken me.
