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The Streams
© John Kenyon
Two streams there were, two streams from separate founts,
Both beautiful to see, and onemost holy;
A Hidden Life
© George MacDonald
Ah God! when Beauty passes by the door,
Although she ne'er came in, the house grows bare.
Shut, shut the door; there's nothing in the house.
Why seems it always that it should be ours?
A secret lies behind which Thou dost know,
And I can partly guess.
The Spagnoletto. Act V
© Emma Lazarus
DON TOMMASO.
If he still live, now shall we hear of him.
The news I learn will lure him from his covert,
Where'er it lie, to pardon or avenge.
The Folly of Brown - By a General Agent
© William Schwenck Gilbert
I knew a boor - a clownish card
(His only friends were pigs and cows and
The poultry of a small farmyard),
Who came into two hundred thousand.
The Four Seasons : Summer
© James Thomson
From brightening fields of ether fair disclosed,
Child of the Sun, refulgent Summer comes,
In pride of youth, and felt through Nature's depth:
He comes attended by the sultry Hours,
Jerusalem Delivered - Book 03 - part 05
© Torquato Tasso
LXI
"Presages, ah too true:" with that a space
Garadh
© Padraic Colum
FOR the poor body that I own
I could weep many a tear:
The days have stolen flesh and bone,
And left a changeling here.
Song I
© Mikolaj Sep Szarzynski
Dear people, swelled in fool's wisdom
And clinging to error so fanciful,
To the skies, adorned in hosts of fair stars,
Look up - and make bright your dimlit minds!
Of The Nature Of Things: Book I - Part 07 - The Infinity Of The Universe
© Lucretius
For one thing after other will grow clear,
Nor shall the blind night rob thee of the road,
To hinder thy gaze on Nature's Farthest-forth.
Thus things for things shall kindle torches new.
Tournesol
© André Breton
La voyageuse qui traverse les Halles à la tombée de l'été
Marchait sur la pointe des pieds
James Shirley: XIV
© Algernon Charles Swinburne
And in the thickening twilight under thee
Walks Davenant, pensive in the paths where he,
The blithest throat that ever carolled love
In music made of mornings merriest heart,
Glad Suckling, stumbled from his seat above
And reeled on slippery roads of alien art.
The Troubadour. Canto 3
© Letitia Elizabeth Landon
But sadness moved him when he gave
DE VALENCE to his lowly grave,--
The grave where the wild flowers were sleeping,
And one pale olive-tree was weeping,--
And placed the rude stone cross to show
A Christian hero lay below.
The Romance Of Britomarte ~~~
© Adam Lindsay Gordon
I'll tell you a story; but pass the "jack",
And let us make merry to-night, my men.
Aye, those were the days when my beard was black -
I like to remember them now and then -
Flora
© Charlotte Turner Smith
REMOTE from scenes, where the o'erwearied mind
Shrinks from the crimes and follies of mankind,
Mary and Gabriel
© Rupert Brooke
Young Mary, loitering once her garden way,
Felt a warm splendour grow in the April day,
As wine that blushes water through. And soon,
Out of the gold air of the afternoon,
Mutability
© Rupert Brooke
Dear, we know only that we sigh, kiss, smile;
Each kiss lasts but the kissing; and grief goes over;
Love has no habitation but the heart.
Poor straws! on the dark flood we catch awhile,
Cling, and are borne into the night apart.
The laugh dies with the lips, `Love' with the lover.
And love has changed to kindliness
© Rupert Brooke
When love has changed to kindliness --
Oh, love, our hungry lips, that press
So tight that Time's an old god's dream
Nodding in heaven, and whisper stuff
Welcome To Our Canadian Spring
© Rosanna Eleanor Leprohon
We welcome thy coming, bright, sunny Spring,
To this snow-clad land of ours,
