Fear poems
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The Voyage
© Charles Baudelaire
À Maxime du Camp
I
For the child, in love with globe, and stamps,
the universe equals his vast appetite.
The Tram (In The Midlands)
© Robert Laurence Binyon
III
A boy with a bunch of primroses!
He sits uneasy, flushed of cheek,
With wandering eyes and does not speak:
His hands are hot; the flowers are his.
Italy : 7. Marguerite De Tours
© Samuel Rogers
Now the grey granite, starting through the snow,
Discovered many a variegated moss
That to the pilgrim resting on his staff
Shadows our capes and islands; and ere long
To Harriet St. Leger
© Frances Anne Kemble
I would I might be with thee, when the year
Begins to wane, and that thou walk'st alone
Thebais - Book One - part II
© Pablius Papinius Statius
A robe obscene was oer her shoulders thrown,
A dress by fates and furies worn alone. us
The Spirit Of Navigation
© William Lisle Bowles
Stern Father of the storm! who dost abide
Amid the solitude of the vast deep,
The Mother Watch
© Edgar Albert Guest
She never closed her eyes in sleep till we were all in bed;
On party nights till we came home she often sat and read.
We little thought about it then, when we were young and gay,
How much the mother worried when we children were away.
We only knew she never slept when we were out at night,
And that she waited just to know that we'd come home all right.
Piere Vidal Old
© Ezra Pound
When I but think upon the great dead days
And turn my mind upon that splendid madness,
Lo! I do curse my strength
And blame the sun his gladness;
For that the one is dead
And the red sun mocks my sadness.
Book Eleventh: France [concluded]
© William Wordsworth
But indignation works where hope is not,
And thou, O Friend! wilt be refreshed. There is
One great society alone on earth:
The noble Living and the noble Dead.
Mr. Pope
© Allen Tate
When Alexander Pope strolled in the city
Strict was the glint of pearl and ''old sedans.
Ladies leaned out more out of fear than pity
For Pope's tight back was rather a goat's than man's
In The Harbour: Possibilities
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Where are the Poets, unto whom belong
The Olympian heights; whose singing shafts were sent
Phantasies
© Emma Lazarus
Rest, beauty, stillness: not a waif of a cloud
From gray-blue east sheer to the yellow west-
No film of mist the utmost slopes to shroud.
From Iphigenia In Tauris
© Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
The deities dread!
The mastery hold they
In hands all-eternal,
And use them, unquestioned,
What manner they like.
The Dark Angel
© Lionel Pigot Johnson
DARK Angel, with thine aching lust
To rid the world of penitence:
Malicious Angel, who still dost
My soul such subtile violence!
Ghost Villanelle by Dan Lechay: American Life in Poetry #187 Ted Kooser, U.S. Poet Laureate 2004-20
© Ted Kooser
I thought that we'd celebrate Halloween with an appropriate poem, and Iowa poet Dan Lechay's seems just right. The drifting veils of rhyme and meter disclose a ghost, or is it a ghost?
Ghost Villanelle
We never saw the ghost, though he was thereâ
we knew from the raindrops tapping on the eaves.
We never saw him, and we didn't care.
Pyramus and Thisbe
© John Donne
Two, by themselves, each other, love and fear,
Slain, cruel friends, by parting have join'd here.
A Sonnet Upon The Pitiful Burning Of The Globe Playhouse In
© Anonymous
Now sit thee down, Melpomene,
Wrapp'd in a sea-coal robe,
And tell the doleful tragedy
That late was play'd at Globe;
