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The Mystic Trumpeter
© Walt Whitman
I hear thee, trumpeter-listening, alert, I catch thy notes,
Now pouring, whirling like a tempest round me,
Now low, subdued-now in the distance lost.
Ode To Happiness
© James Russell Lowell
Spirit, that rarely comest now
And only to contrast my gloom,
Amiable Thoughts For Someone In A Hospital
© Eli Siegel
A Poem Of Aesthetic Realism
May the things you say to yourself
Be the best for you.
May the things you hear from others
Johnson, alias Crow
© Henry Lawson
Where the seasons are divided and the bush begins to change,
and the links are rather broken in the Great Dividing Range;
The Conference
© Charles Churchill
Grace said in form, which sceptics must agree,
When they are told that grace was said by me;
The Gipsy's Camp
© John Clare
How oft on Sundays, when I'd time to tramp,
My rambles led me to a gipsy's camp,
The Plea Of The Midsummer Fairies
© Thomas Hood
I
'Twas in that mellow season of the year
When the hot sun singes the yellow leaves
Till they be gold,and with a broader sphere
To Charles Walker
© Adam Lindsay Gordon
WHEREAS ! L. Gordon having gone away
By virtue of the law we here decree
Ad Finem
© Wilcox Ella Wheeler
On the white throat of useless passion
That scorched my soul with its burning breath
In Verona.
© Robert Crawford
Juliet will never rise
In her passion's paradise;
Dust is in her ears and eyes.
And time too, as all men know,
There Is a Lady Sweet and Kind
© Thomas Ford
There is a lady sweet and kind,
Was never face so pleas'd my mind;
I did but see her passing by,
And yet I love her till I die.
Song: My Days Have Been So Wondrous Free
© Thomas Parnell
My days have been so wondrous free,
The little birds that fly
With careless ease from tree to tree,
Were but as bless'd as I.
The Wanderers Return
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
An old heart's mourning is a hideous thing,
And weeds upon an aged weeper cling
Like night upon a grave. The city there,
Gaunt as a woman who has once been fair,
Rhymed Plea For Tolerance - Dialogue I
© John Kenyon
Yet the heart vents still more indignant blame,
Where Lawgivers their sullen codes proclaim,
And idly would constrain the creed within,
As if Belief were Crime, and ToleranceSin.
The Gourd
© John Newton
As once for Jonah, so the Lord
To soothe and cheer my mournful hours,
Prepared for me a pleasing gourd,
Cool was its shade, and sweet its flow'rs.
