Dreams poems
/ page 135 of 232 /In Memoriam A. H. H. OBIIT MDCCCXXXIII: 55
© Alfred Tennyson
The wish, that of the living whole
No life may fail beyond the grave,
Derives it not from what we have
The likest God within the soul?
The Picture, Or The Lover's Resolution
© Samuel Taylor Coleridge
Through weeds and thorns, and matted underwood
I force my way; now climb, and now descend
O'er rocks, or bare or mossy, with wild foot
Crushing the purple whorts; while oft unseen,
A Rhapsody of a Southern Winter Night
© Henry Timrod
Oh! dost thou flatter falsely, Hope?
The day hath scarcely passed that saw thy birth,
A Letter From A Stupid Woman
© Nizar Qabbani
Don't become annoyed, my dear Master,
If I revealed to you my feelings
For the Eastern man
Is not concerned with poetry or feelings
The Eastern man - and forgive my insolence - does not understand women
but over the sheets.
Invocation To Misery
© Percy Bysshe Shelley
I.
Come, be happy!sit near me,
Shadow-vested Misery:
Coy, unwilling, silent bride,
Mourning in thy robe of pride,
Desolationdeified!
Paradise Lost: Book IV
© Patrick Kavanagh
"Which of those rebel Spirits adjudg'd to Hell
Com'st thou, escap'd thy prison? and, transform'd,
Why satt'st thou like an enemy in wait,
Here watching at the head of these that sleep?"
The Lay for the Troubled Golfer
© Edgar Albert Guest
His eye was wild and his face was taut with anger and hate and rage,
And the things he muttered were much too strong for the ink of the printed page.
I found him there when the dusk came down, in his golf clothes still was he,
And his clubs were strewn around his feet as he told his grief to me:
Id an easy five for a seventy-ninein sight of the golden goal
An easy five and I took an eightan eight on the eighteenth hole!
Marenghi
© Percy Bysshe Shelley
II.
A massy tower yet overhangs the town,
A scattered group of ruined dwellings now...
Hymn to Life
© James Schuyler
The wind rests its cheek upon the ground and feels the cool damp
And lifts its head with twigs and small dead blades of grass
Portico
© Rubén Dario
I am the singer who of late put by
The verse azulean and the chant profane,
Across whose nights a rossignol would cry
And prove himself a lark at morn again.
Poems - Written On The Deaths Of Three Lovely Children
© Jean Ingelow
Yellow leaves, how fast they flutter-woodland hollows thickly strewing,
Where the wan October sunbeams scantly in the mid-day win,
While the dim gray clouds are drifting, and in saddened hues imbuing
All without and all within!
Fears In Solitude. Written In April, 1798, During The Alarm Of An Invasion
© Samuel Taylor Coleridge
A green and silent spot, amid the hills,
A small and silent dell! O'er stiller place
No singing sky-lark ever poised himself.
The hills are heathy, save that swelling slope,
Ghost
© Walter de la Mare
'Who knocks? ' 'I, who was beautiful
Beyond all dreams to restore,
I from the roots of the dark thorn am hither,
And knock on the door.'
A Summer Recollection
© Sarah Flower Adams
Night comes!She seeks her rest.
Peace, fold her to thy breast!
And loveliest dreams unto her sleep be given:
The blessing she has brought
Into her soul be wrought!
On Earth there is no purer, brighter Heaven!
Ormuzd And Ahriman. Part II
© Christopher Pearse Cranch
Fear not, for ye shall live if ye receive
The life divine, obedient to the law
Of truth and good. So shall there be no frown
Upon his face who wills the good of all.
Delia XLIX
© Samuel Daniel
Care-charmer Sleep, son of the sable Night,
Brother to Death, in silent darkness born.