Car poems
/ page 580 of 738 /
Sonnet XXXIV: Venus! To Thee
© Mary Darby Robinson
Venus! to thee, the Lesbian Muse shall sing,
The song, which Myttellenian youths admir'd,
when Echo, am'rous of the strain inspir'd,
Bade the wild rocks with madd'ning plaudits ring!
Sonnet XXVIII: Weak Is the Sophistry
© Mary Darby Robinson
Weak is the sophistry, and vain the art
That whispers patience to the mind's despair!
That bids reflection bathe the wounds of care,
While Hope, with pleasing phantoms, soothes their smart.
Ode To Sadness
© Pablo Neruda
Sadness, scarab
with seven crippled feet,
spiderweb egg,
scramble-brained rat,
The Fetch
© Dora Sigerson Shorter
"What makes you so late at the trysting?
What caused you so long to be?
Unexpressed
© Paul Laurence Dunbar
DEEP in my heart that aches with the repression,
And strives with plenitude of bitter pain,
The Hueless Love
© George Meredith
Unto that love must we through fire attain,
Which those two held as breath of common air;
The hands of whom were given in bond elsewhere;
Whom Honour was untroubled to restrain.
Sonnet XII: Now, O'er the Tesselated Pavement
© Mary Darby Robinson
Now, o'er the tessellated pavement strew
Fresh saffron, steep'd in essence of the rose,
While down yon agate column gently flows
A glitt'ring streamlet of ambrosial dew!
Sonnet to the Memory of Miss Maria Linley
© Mary Darby Robinson
So bends beneath the storm yon balmy flow'r,
Whose spicy blossoms once perfum'd the gale;
So press'd with tears reclines yon lily pale,
Obedient to the rude and beating show'r.
Sonnet to Amicus
© Mary Darby Robinson
WHOE'ER thou art, whose soul-enchanting song
Steals on the sullen ear of pensive woe;
To whom the sounds of melody belong,
Sounds, that can more than human bliss bestow;
Sonnet IV: Why, When I Gaze
© Mary Darby Robinson
Why, when I gaze on Phaon's beauteous eyes,
Why does each thought in wild disorder stray?
Why does each fainting faculty decay,
And my chill'd breast in throbbing tumults rise?
Conscience
© Robert Southwell
My conscience is my crown;
Contented thoughts my rest;
My heart is happy in itself;
My bliss is in my breast.
Second Ode to the Nightingale
© Mary Darby Robinson
BLEST be thy song, sweet NIGHTINGALE,
Lorn minstrel of the lonely vale !
Where oft I've heard thy dulcet strain
In mournful melody complain;
Brother Benedict
© Alfred Austin
Brother Benedict rose and left his cell
With the last slow swing of the evening bell.
Pastoral Stanzas
© Mary Darby Robinson
WHEN AURORA'S soft blushes o'erspread the blue hill,
And the mist dies away at the glances of morn;
When the birds join the music that floats on the rill,
And the beauties of spring the young woodlands adorn.
Ode to the Nightingale
© Mary Darby Robinson
Restless and sadI sought once more
A calm retreat on BRITAIN's shore;
Deceitful HOPE, e'en there I found
That soothing FRIENDSHIP's specious name
Was but a short-liv'd empty sound,
And LOVE a false delusive flame.
Ode to the Muse
© Mary Darby Robinson
But, if thy magic pow'rs impart
One soft sensation to the heart,
If thy warm precepts can dispense
One thrilling transport o'er my sense;
Oh! keep thy gifts, and let me fly,
In APATHY's cold arms to die.
Ode to the Moon
© Mary Darby Robinson
PALE GODDESS of the witching hour;
Blest Contemplation's placid friend;
Oft in my solitary bow'r,
I mark thy lucid beam
From thy crystal car descend,
Whitening the spangled heath, and limpid sapphire stream.
