Best poems
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The Dream
© Lord Byron
My dream is past; it had no further change.
It was of a strange order, that the doom
Of these two creatures should be thus traced out
Almost like a realitythe one
To end in madnessboth in misery.
At His Grave
© Alfred Austin
LEAVE me a little while alone,
Here at his grave that still is strown
With crumbling flower and wreath;
The laughing rivulet leaps and falls,
The thrush exults, the cuckoo calls,
And he lies hushd beneath.
Peter Sinning And Repenting
© John Newton
When Peter boasted, soon he fell,
Yet was by grace restored;
His case should be regarded well
By all who fear the Lord.
Pearls
© Bernadette Geyer
And so I look back
still thinking of her
with painful heart,
this clench of inner flesh.
To my dead friend Ben Johnson
© Henry King
I see that wreath which doth the wearer arm
'Gainst the quick strokes of thunder, is no charm
To keep off deaths pale dart. For, Johnson then
Thou hadst been number'd still with living men.
Psalm LXXXV. (85)
© John Milton
Thy Land to favour graciously
Thou hast not Lord been slack,
Thou hast from hard Captivity
Returned Jacob back.
From 'Religious Musings'
© Samuel Taylor Coleridge
ITHERE is one Mind, one omnipresent Mind,
Omnific. His most holy name is Love.
Truth of subliming import! with the which
Who feeds and saturates his constant soul,
To William Wordsworth
© Samuel Taylor Coleridge
Friend of the Wise ! and Teacher of the Good !
Into my heart have I received that Lay
More than historic, that prophetic Lay
Wherein (high theme by thee first sung aright)
To Rich Givers
© Walt Whitman
WHAT you give me, I cheerfully accept,
A little sustenance, a hut and garden, a little money-these, as I
Epitaph On Two Young Men Of The Name Of Leitch, Who Were Drowned In Crossing The River Southesk, 175
© James Beattie
O thou! whose steps in sacred reverence tread
These lone dominions of the silent dead;
Ballad
© Eustache Deschamps
Here is no flower, no violet e'er so sweet,
Nor tree, nor brier, whatever charms they show, Beauty nor worth where all perfections meet,
No man, nor woman, though her fate bestow
Bright locks, fair skin, cheeks that like roses glow,
Or wise or foolish nought by nature made,
Which length of time shall age not, and degrade, But the fierce hunter death shall hold in chase, And which, when old, the world will not upbraid: Old age ends all, in youth alone is grace.
The Captivity
© Oliver Goldsmith
FIRST PROPHET.
AIR.
Our God is all we boast below,
To him we turn our eyes;
And every added weight of woe
Shall make our homage rise.
Let such pure hate still underprop
© Henry David Thoreau
Let such pure hate still underprop
Our love, that we may be
Each other's conscience,
And have our sympathy
Mainly from thence.
The Song Of The Nine Singers
© Giordano Bruno
O cliffs and rocks! O thorny woods! O shore!
O hills and dales! O valleys, rivers, seas!
How do your new-discovered beauties please?
O Nymph, 'tis yours the guerdon rare,
If now the open skies shine fair;
O happy wanderings, well spent and o'er!
Cabbage Key
© Shawn McAllister
Once Hemingway
sat across this bay
and touched the endless sea
The gulf-stretched sun
Paradise Lost : Book V.
© John Milton
Now Morn, her rosy steps in the eastern clime
Advancing, sowed the earth with orient pearl,
To The Poet On The Subject Of Flowers
© Arthur Rimbaud
Thus continually towards the dark azure,
Where the sea of topazes shimmers,
Will function in your evening
The Lilies, those pessaries of ectasy!
To William Wordsworth. Composed On The Night After His Recitation Of A Poem On The Growth Of An Indi
© Samuel Taylor Coleridge
Friend of the Wise! and Teacher of the Good!
Into my heart have I received that Lay
More than historic, that prophetic Lay
Wherein (high theme by thee first sung aright)
