Car poems
/ page 297 of 738 /The Charter;
© Helen Maria Williams
ADDRESSED
TO MY NEPHEW
ATHANASE C. L. COQUEREL,
ON HIS WEDDING DAY, 1819.
La Ultima Odalisca
© Ramon Lopez Velarde
Mi carne pesa, y se intimida
porque su peso fabuloso
es la cadena estremecida
de los cuerpos universales
que se han unido con mi vida.
The Delights Of Rungsted. An Ode
© Johannes Ewald
You shadows refreshing,
You darkness from roses now stealing;
An Artist
© Robinson Jeffers
That sculptor we knew, the passionate-eyed son of a quarryman,
Who astonished Rome and Paris in his meteor youth, and then
was gone, at his high tide of triumphs,
Without reason or good-bye; I have seen him again lately, after
twenty years, but not in Europe.
On the Just and the Unjust
© Blanche Edith Baughan
OUTCAST, a horror to his kind,
At night he to the forest fled.
To My Bride (Whoever She May Be)
© William Schwenck Gilbert
Oh! little maid! - (I do not know your name
Or who you are, so, as a safe precaution
I'll add) - Oh, buxom widow! married dame!
(As one of these must be your present portion)
Listen, while I unveil prophetic lore for you,
And sing the fate that Fortune has in store for you.
King Cophetua The First
© Coventry Kersey Dighton Patmore
Said Jove within himself one day,
I'll make me a mistress out of clay!
The Wonder-Working Magician - Act II
© Denis Florence MacCarthy
CYPRIAN. Ever wrangling in this way,
How ye both my patience try!
Why can he not go? Say why?
"I stand alone at the foot " by William Kloefkorn: American Life in Poetry #147 Ted Kooser, U.S. Poe
© Ted Kooser
Our earliest recollections are often imprinted in our memories because they were associated with some kind of stress. Here, in an untitled poem, the Nebraska State Poet, William Kloefkorn, brings back a difficult moment from many years before, and makes a late confession:
"I stand alone at the foot "
The Castle Of Indolence
© James Thomson
The castle hight of Indolence,
And its false luxury;
Where for a little time, alas!
We lived right jollily.
Metamorphoses: Book The Eighth
© Ovid
The End of the Eighth 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
Epitaph On Henry Martyn
© Thomas Babbington Macaulay
Here Martyn lies. In Manhood's early bloom
The Christian Hero finds a Pagan tomb.
The Flower of Love
© Thomas Love Peacock
'Tis said the rose is Love's own flower,
Its blush so bright, its thorns so many;
The Dead Return
© Edgar Albert Guest
THE dead return. I know they do;
The glad smile may have passed from view,
Symbols
© Christina Georgina Rossetti
I watched a rosebud very long
Brought on by dew and sun and shower,
Waiting to see the perfect flower:
Then, when I thought it should be strong,
It opened at the matin hour
And fell at evensong.
Laurance - [Part 2]
© Jean Ingelow
Then looking hard upon her, came to him
The power to feel and to perceive. Her teeth
Chattered, and all her limbs with shuddering failed,
And in her threadbare shawl was wrapped a child
That looked on him with wondering, wistful eyes.
Sappho II
© Sara Teasdale
Oh Litis, little slave, why will you sleep?
These long Egyptian noons bend down your head
Bowed like the yarrow with a yellow bee.
There, lift your eyes no man has ever kindled,