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From The Italian Of Michael Angelo
© William Wordsworth
YES! hope may with my strong desire keep pace,
And I be undeluded, unbetrayed;
For if of our affections none finds grace
In sight of Heaven, then, wherefore hath God made
The Ghost - Book III
© Charles Churchill
It was the hour, when housewife Morn
With pearl and linen hangs each thorn;
A Dream Of Venice
© Ada Cambridge
Numb, half asleep, and dazed with whirl of wheels,
And gasp of steam, and measured clank of chains,
'Gettin' Back'
© Henry Lawson
When we've arrived by boat or rail, and feeling pretty well,
And humped our heavy gladstones to the Great Norsouth Hotel;
And when we've had a wash and brush and changed biled rags for soft
And ate a hearty country meal our spirits go aloft!
(Damn the city!)
The Forest Sanctuary - Part II.
© Felicia Dorothea Hemans
Ave, sanctissima!
'Tis night-fall on the sea;
Ora pro nobis!
Our souls rise to thee!
Fragment XIII
© James Macpherson
His spear leaned against the mossy rock.
His shield lay by him on the grass.
Whilst he thought on the mighty Carbre
whom he slew in battle, the scout of
the ocean came, Moran the son of Fithil.
Hope Dieth: Hope Liveth
© William Morris
Strong are thine arms, O love, & strong
Thine heart to live, and love, and long;
SONNET. Go thou that vainly do'st mine eyes invite
© Henry King
Go thou that vainly do'st mine eyes invite
To taste the softer comforts of the night,
And bid'st me cool the feaver of my brain,
In those sweet balmy dewes which slumber pain;
The Traveller; or, A Prospect of Society
© Oliver Goldsmith
Remote, unfriended, melancholy, slow
Or by the lazy Scheldt or wandering Po,
Don Juan: Canto The Sixth
© George Gordon Byron
'There is a tide in the affairs of men
Which,--taken at the flood,'--you know the rest,
The Progress of Spring
© Alfred Tennyson
THE groundflame of the crocus breaks the mould,
Fair Spring slides hither o'er the Southern sea,
Wind-Clouds And Star-Drifts
© Oliver Wendell Holmes
Here am I, bound upon this pillared rock,
Prey to the vulture of a vast desire
That feeds upon my life. I burst my bands
And steal a moment's freedom from the beak,
The clinging talons and the shadowing plumes;
Then comes the false enchantress, with her song;
The Garland
© Matthew Prior
The pride of every grove I chose,
The violet sweet and lily fair,
The dappled pink and blushing rose,
To deck my charming Cloe's hair.
To an Old Grammar
© Martha M Simpson
Oh, mighty conjuror, you raise
The ghost of my lost youth -
The happy, golden-tinted days
When earth her treasure-trove displays,
And everything is truth.
Paradise Lost : Book IV.
© John Milton
O, for that warning voice, which he, who saw
The Apocalypse, heard cry in Heaven aloud,
The Progress Of Refinement. Part III.
© Henry James Pye
CONTENTS OF PART III. Introduction.Comparison of ancient and modern Manners. Peculiar softness of the latter.Humanity in War. Politeness.Enquiry into the causes.Purity of the Christian Religion.Abolition of Slavery in Europe. Remaining effects of Chivalry.The behaviour of Edward the Black Prince, after the battle of Poitiers, contrasted with a Roman Triumph.Tendency of firearms to abate the ferocity of war.Duelling.Society of Women.Consequent prevalence of Love in poetical compositions. Softness of the modern Drama.Shakespear admired, but not imitated.Sentimental Comedy.Novels. Diffusion of superficial knowledge.Prevalence of Gaming in every state of mankind.Peculiar effect of the universal influence of Cards on modern times.Luxury. Enquiry why it does not threaten Europe now, with the fatal consequences it brought on ancient Rome.Indolence, and Gluttony, checked by the free intercourse with women.Their dislike to effeminate men.The frequent wars among the European Nations keep up a martial spirit.Point of Honor.Hereditary Nobility.Peculiar situation of Britain.Effects of Commerce when carried to excess.Danger when money becomes the sole distinction. Address to Men of ancient and noble families. Address to the Ladies.The Decline of their influence, a sure fore-runner of selfish Luxury.Recapitulation and Conclusion.
Moon-Struck
© Dinah Maria Mulock Craik
IT is a moor
Barren and treeless; lying high and bare
Beneath the archèd sky. The rushing winds
Fly over it, each with his strong bow bent
And quiver full of whistling arrows keen.
Dead Joys
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
Moan on with thy loud changeless wail,
Desolate sea,
Grinding thy pebbles into thankless sand.
Oh, could I lash my angry heart like thee
Requiem: The Soldier
© Humbert Wolfe
Down some cold field in a world outspoken
the young men are walking together, slim and tall,
and though they laugh to one another, silence is not broken;
there is no sound however clear they call.
Stanzas
© William Wordsworth
ONCE I could hail (howe'er serene the sky)
The Moon re-entering her monthly round,
No faculty yet given me to espy
The dusky Shape within her arms imbound,
That thin memento of effulgence lost
Which some have named her Predecessor's ghost. .
