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The Emigrants: Book I
© Charlotte Turner Smith
Scene, on the Cliffs to the Eastward of the Town of
Brighthelmstone in Sussex. Time, a Morning in November, 1792.
Sonnet XLII: Composed During a Walk
© Charlotte Turner Smith
The dark and pillowy cloud, the sallow trees,
Seem o'er the ruins of the year to mourn;
Song of the Lotos-Eaters
© Alfred Tennyson
THERE is sweet music here that softer falls
Than petals from blown roses on the grass,
In Memoriam A. H. H.: 95. By night we linger'd on the lawn
© Alfred Tennyson
While now we sang old songs that peal'd
From knoll to knoll, where, couch'd at ease,
The white kine glimmer'd, and the trees
Laid their dark arms about the field.
In Memoriam A. H. H.: 78. Again at Christmas did we weave
© Alfred Tennyson
Again at Christmas did we weave
The holly round the Christmas hearth;
The silent snow possess'd the earth,
And calmly fell our Christmas-eve:
In Memoriam A. H. H.: 54. Oh, yet we Trust that somehow Goo
© Alfred Tennyson
Behold, we know not anything;
I can but trust that good shall fall
At last--far off--at last, to all,
And every winter change to spring.
In Memoriam A. H. H.: 2. Old Yew, which graspest at the sto
© Alfred Tennyson
And gazing on thee, sullen tree,
Sick for thy stubborn hardihood,
I seem to fail from out my blood
And grow incorporate into thee.
In Memoriam A. H. H.: 131. O living will that shalt endure
© Alfred Tennyson
O true and tried, so well and long,
Demand not thou a marriage lay;
In that it is thy marriage day
Is music more than any song.
In Memoriam A. H. H.: 121. Sad Hesper o'er the buried sun
© Alfred Tennyson
The market boat is on the stream,
And voices hail it from the brink;
Thou hear'st the village hammer clink,
And see'st the moving of the team.
In Memoriam A. H. H.: 105. To-night ungather'd let us leave
© Alfred Tennyson
Let cares that petty shadows cast,
By which our lives are chiefly proved,
A little spare the night I loved,
And hold it solemn to the past.
Alfred Lord Tennyson - The Coming Of Arthur
© Alfred Tennyson
Leodogran, the King of Cameliard,
Had one fair daughter, and none other child;
And she was the fairest of all flesh on earth,
Guinevere, and in her his one delight.
More Later, Less The Same
© James Tate
The common is unusually calm--they captured the storm
last night, it's sleeping in the stockade, relieved
This Strangeness in My Life
© Ruth Stone
It is so hard to see where it is,
but it is there even in the morning
Astrophel and Stella
© Sir Philip Sidney
Doubt you to whom my Muse these notes entendeth,
Which now my breast, surcharg'd, to musick lendeth!
To you, to you, all song of praise is due,
Only in you my song begins and endeth.
Written among the Euganean Hills North Italy
© Percy Bysshe Shelley
MANY a green isle needs must be
In the deep wide sea of Misery,
