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/ page 105 of 246 /Ode to a Young Lady
© William Shenstone
Survey, my Fair! that lucid stream,
Adown the smiling valley stray;
Would Art attempt, or Fancy dream,
To regulate its winding way?
August Moonrise
© Sara Teasdale
THE sun was gone, and the moon was coming
Over the blue Connecticut hills;
The west was rosy, the east was flushed,
And over my head the swallows rushed
The Door (I)
© Robert Creeley
It is hard going to the door
cut so small in the wall where
the vision which echoes loneliness
brings a scent of wild flowers in a wood.
Georgie Sails To-Morrow!
© Henry Clay Work
For sixteen years, a merry, laughing maiden,
I have warbl'd only songs of joy;
And in this heart, so very lightly laden,
Happy thoughts have ever found employ.
But times will change! and now there comes a sorrow,
Which bids me ev'ry joy resign:
Vain Hope
© Ernest Christopher Dowson
Sometimes, to solace my sad heart, I say,
Though late it be, though lily-time be past,
Living
© William Dean Howells
HOW passionately I will my life away
Which I would give all that I have to stay;
How wildly I hurry, for the change I crave.
To hurl myself into the changeless grave!
At The Linn-Side
© Dinah Maria Mulock Craik
O LIVING, living water,
So busy and so bright,
Aye flashing in the morning beams,
And sounding through the night;
Rose Mary
© Dante Gabriel Rossetti
Of her two fights with the Beryl-stone
Lost the first, but the second won.
Report To Crazy Horse
© William Stafford
Crazy Horse, tell me if I am right:
these are the things we thought we were
doing something about.
Hero And Leander. The Fourth Sestiad
© George Chapman
Now from Leander's place she rose, and found
Her hair and rent robe scatter'd on the ground;
To June. Written After An Ungenial May
© Denis Florence MacCarthy
I'll heed no more the poet's lay-
His false-fond song shall charm no more-
My heart henceforth shall but adore
The real, not the misnamed May.
On Some Rose Leaves Brought From The Vale Of Cashmere
© Rosanna Eleanor Leprohon
Faded and pale their beauty, vanished their early bloom,
Their folded leaves emit alone a sweet though faint perfume,
But, oh! than brightest bud or flower to me are they more dear,
They come from that rose-haunted land, the bright Vale of Cashmere.
Svanhvit's Colloquy
© Per Daniel Amadeus Atterbom
What countless paths wind down, from divers points,
To yonder city gates!--Oh, wilt not thou,
My star, appear to me on one of them?
Whate'er I said,--thou art my worshiped sun.
Then pardon me;--thou art not cold; oh, no!
Too warm, too glowing warm, art thou for me.
Laus Virginitatis
© Arthur Symons
The mirror of men's eyes delights me less,
mirror, than the friend I find in thee;
Thou loves!:, as I love, my loveliness,
Thou givest my beauty back to me.
The Golden Legend: III. A Street In Strasburg
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
_Crier of the dead (ringing a bell)._ Wake! wake!
All ye that sleep!
Pray for the Dead!
Pray for the Dead!
From Myrtis
© Walter Savage Landor
FRIENDS, whom she lookd at blandly from her couch
And her white wrist above it, gem-bedewd,
Were arguing with Pentheusa: she had heard
Report of Creons death, whom years before
The Hammock's Complaint
© Wilcox Ella Wheeler
Who thinks how desolate and strange
To me must seem the autumn's change,
When housed in attic or in chest,
A lonely and unwilling guest,
I lie through nights of bleak December,
And think in silence, and remember.
The Vision Of Echard
© John Greenleaf Whittier
The Benedictine Echard
Sat by the wayside well,
Where Marsberg sees the bridal
Of the Sarre and the Moselle.
The Poet's Song
© Archibald Lampman
There came no change from week to week
On all the land, but all one way,
Like ghosts that cannot touch nor speak,
Day followed day.
The Responsibility Of Fatherhood
© Edgar Albert Guest
BEFORE you came, my little lad,
I used to think that I was good,