Envy poems
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112. A Dream
© Robert Burns
Note 1. The American colonies had recently been lost. [back]
Note 2. King Henry V.R. B. [back]
Note 3. Sir John Falstaff, vid. Shakespeare.R. B. [back]
Note 4. Alluding to the newspaper account of a certain Royal sailors amour.R. B. This was Prince William Henry, third son of George III, afterward King William IV. [back]
The Art Of War. Book VI.
© Henry James Pye
If chiefs like these in combat vers'd have found
Their honors fade as fortune sudden frown'd,
If they have fall'n from fortune's giddy height,
What can ye hope yet novices in fight?
Scarce wean'd by fierce Bellona's fostering arms,
Young in the field, and new to War's alarms.
The Song Of Princess Zeb-Un-Nissa In Praise Of Her Own Beauty
© Sarojini Naidu
WHEN from my cheek I lift my veil,
The roses turn with envy pale,
And from their pierced hearts, rich with pain,
Send forth their fragrance like a wail.
To A Critic
© Madison Julius Cawein
Song hath a catalogue of lovely things
Thy kind hath oft defiled,--whose spite misleads
Jerusalem Delivered - Book 05 - part 05
© Torquato Tasso
LXV
But yet all ways the wily witch could find
The Two Swans (A Fairy Tale)
© Thomas Hood
I
Immortal Imogen, crown'd queen above
The lilies of thy sex, vouchsafe to hear
A fairy dream in honor of true love
Sonnet LXX
© William Shakespeare
That thou art blamed shall not be thy defect,
For slander's mark was ever yet the fair;
The ornament of beauty is suspect,
A crow that flies in heaven's sweetest air.
Sonnet CXXVIII
© William Shakespeare
How oft, when thou, my music, music play'st,
Upon that blessed wood whose motion sounds
With thy sweet fingers, when thou gently sway'st
The wiry concord that mine ear confounds,
Sonnet 70: That thou art blamed shall not be thy defect
© William Shakespeare
That thou art blamed shall not be thy defect,
For slander's mark was ever yet the fair;
The ornament of beauty is suspect,
A crow that flies in heaven's sweetest air.
The Vanity of Human Wishes (excerpts)
© Samuel Johnson
45 Yet still one gen'ral cry the skies assails,
46 And gain and grandeur load the tainted gales,
47 Few know the toiling statesman's fear or care,
48 Th' insidious rival and the gaping heir.
Paradise Lost : Book II.
© John Milton
High on a throne of royal state, which far
Outshone the wealth or Ormus and of Ind,
Sonnet : On Launching Some Bottles Filled With Knowledge Into The Bristol Channel
© Percy Bysshe Shelley
Vessels of heavenly medicine! may the breeze
Auspicious waft your dark green forms to shore;
Safe may ye stem the wide surrounding roar
Of the wild whirlwinds and the raging seas;
Aspiring Miss DeLaine
© Francis Bret Harte
(A CHEMICAL NARRATIVE)
Certain facts which serve to explain
doughnut denial
© Rg Gregory
fancy having a birthday on a thursday
when you do the buying of the doughnuts
and others lick their sticky fingers
thinking good old karen letting
us share the eating of her birthday
art school
© Rg Gregory
each sunset is unique
so others tell usfools - with flowers
of envy pushingthrough their teeth
i think differentlya feeble skill that
The Grave
© Robert Blair
While some affect the sun, and some the shade,
Some flee the city, some the hermitage;
Their aims as various, as the roads they take
In journeying through life;the task be mine,
M'Andrew's Hymn
© Rudyard Kipling
Lord, Thou hast made this world below the shadow of a dream,
An', taught by time, I tak' it so - exceptin' always Steam.
From coupler-flange to spindle-guide I see Thy Hand, O God -
Predestination in the stride o' yon connectin'-rod.
A Terre
© Wilfred Owen
Sit on the bed; I'm blind, and three parts shell,
Be careful; can't shake hands now; never shall.
Both arms have mutinied against me -- brutes.
My fingers fidget like ten idle brats.
And ask ye why these sad tears stream?
© Alfred Tennyson
And ask ye why these sad tears stream?
Why these wan eyes are dim with weeping?
I had a dreama lovely dream,
Of her that in the grave is sleeping.
6th April 1651 L'Amitie: To Mrs. M. Awbrey
© Katherine Philips
Soule of my soule! my Joy, my crown, my friend!
A name which all the rest doth comprehend;
How happy are we now, whose sols are grown,
By an incomparable mixture, One:
