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The Merchant Of Venice: A Legend Of Italy
© Richard Harris Barham
With a pack,
Like a sack
Of old clothes at his back,
And three hats on his head, Shylock came in a crack,
Saying, 'Rest you fair, Signior Antonio!- vat, pray,
Might your vorship be pleashed for to vant in ma vay!'
From The Portuguese, 'Tu Mi Chamas'
© George Gordon Byron
In moments to delight devoted,
'My life!' with tenderest tone you cry;
Dear words! on which my heart had doted,
If youth could neither fade nor die.
Moonlight Reveries
© Rosanna Eleanor Leprohon
The moon from solemn azure sky
Looked down on earth below,
The Princes' Quest - Part the Ninth
© William Watson
And passing through the city he went out
Into the fat fields lying thereabout,
In Memoriam A. H. H.: 131
© 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.
The Last Ode
© Rudyard Kipling
As watchers couched beneath a Bantine oak,
Hearing the dawn-wind stir,
Know that the present strength of night is broke
Though no dawn threaten her
Till dawn's appointed hour-so Virgil died,
Aware of change at hand, and prophesied
Sonnet XXXVI: Life-In-Love
© Dante Gabriel Rossetti
Not in thy body is thy life at all,
But in this lady's lips and hands and eyes;
On Early Trains
© Boris Pasternak
This winter I was outside Moscow,
But when the time for work came round,
Through the blizzard, biting frost and snow,
I made the journey into town.
Ballade
© Antoinette du Ligier de la Garde Deshoulières
À caution tous amants sont sujets:
Cette maxime en ma tête est écrite.
Tale XX
© George Crabbe
flown:
All swept away, to be perceived no more,
Like idle structures on the sandy shore,
The chance amusement of the playful boy,
That the rude billows in their rage destroy.
Poor George confess'd, though loth the truth to
The Love Sonnets Of Proteus. Part I: To Manon: XIII
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
HE DARES NOT DIE
Four hours by the clock! How strange it is! Four hours
Since love and life, the future and the past,
Died with the shutting of these silent doors,
Sketch From Bowden Hill After Sickness
© William Lisle Bowles
How cheering are thy prospects, airy hill,
To him who, pale and languid, on thy brow
The TigerLily
© Robert Laurence Binyon
What wouldst thou with me? By what spell
My spirit allure, absorb, compel?
The last long beam that thou didst drink
Is buried now on evening's brink.
A Vagrant Heart
© Dora Sigerson Shorter
O to be a woman! to be left to pique and pine,
When the winds are out and calling to this vagrant heart of mine.
A Eunuch Complains Of His Fate
© Confucius
A few fine lines, at random drawn,
Like the shell-pattern wrought in lawn
To hasty glance will seem.
My trivial faults base slander's slime
Distorted into foulest crime,
And men me worthless deem.
Don Juan: Canto The Ninth
© George Gordon Byron
Oh, Wellington! (or 'Villainton'--for Fame
Sounds the heroic syllables both ways;
