Fear poems
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Elegy -- Written in Spring
© Michael Bruce
'Tis past: the iron North has spent his rage;
Stern Winter now resigns the length'ning day;
The stormy howlings of the winds assuage,
And warm o'er ether western breezes play.
The Mother On The Sidewalk
© Edgar Albert Guest
The mother on the sidewalk as the troops are marching by
Is the mother of Old Glory that is waving in the sky.
Men have fought to keep it splendid, men have died to keep it bright,
But that flag was born of woman and her sufferings day and night;
'Tis her sacrifice has made it, and once more we ought to pray
For the brave and loyal mother of the boy who goes away.
My Childhood Home I See Again
© Abraham Lincoln
My childhoods home I see again,
And sadden with the view;
And still, as memory crowds my brain,
Theres pleasure in it too.
Fortunio. A Parable For The Times
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
WHO at the court of Astolf, the great King,
King of a realm of firs, and icy floes,
Cold bright fiords, and mountains capped with clouds.
Who there so loved and honored as the knight,
The Corsair
© George Gordon Byron
1.
'Deep in my soul that tender secret dwells,
Lonely and lost to light for evermore,
Save when to thine my heart responsive swells,
Then trembles into silence as before
Twilight Calm
© Christina Georgina Rossetti
Oh, pleasant eventide!
Clouds on the western side
Grow grey and greyer, hiding the warm sun:
The bees and birds, their happy labours done,
Seek their close nests and bide.
Outlaws
© Robert Graves
Owls: they whinney down the night,
Bats go zigzag by.
Ambushed in shadow out of sight
The outlaws lie.
A Dialogue
© Percy Bysshe Shelley
DEATH:
For my dagger is bathed in the blood of the brave,
I come, care-worn tenant of life, from the grave,
Where Innocence sleeps 'neath the peace-giving sod,
St. Francis Of Borgia By The Coffin Of Queen Isabel
© Rosanna Eleanor Leprohon
Open the coffin and shroud until
I look on the dead again
The Sisters - A Picture By Barry
© John Greenleaf Whittier
The shade for me, but over thee
The lingering sunshine still;
As, smiling, to the silent stream
Comes down the singing rill.
The Death of Slavery
© William Cullen Bryant
O THOU great Wrong, that, through the slow-paced years,
Didst hold thy millions fettered, and didst wield
Broken Music
© Thomas Bailey Aldrich
I know not in what fashion she was made,
Nor what her voice was, when she used to speak,
Nor if the silken lashes threw a shade
On wan or rosy cheek.
Verses upon the Burning of our House, July 18th, 1666
© Anne Bradstreet
In silent night when rest I took,
For sorrow near I did not look,
The Gascon Punished
© Jean de La Fontaine
THE dame, indeed, the Gascon only jeered,
And e'er denied herself when he appeared;
But when she met the wight, who sought to shine;
And called her angel, beauteous and divine,
She fled and hastened to a female friend,
Where she could laugh, and at her ease unbend.
Thou Shalt Not Kill
© Kenneth Rexroth
Harry who didnt care at all?
Hart who went back to the sea?
Timor mortis conturbat me.
The Teacher Of Wisdom
© Oscar Wilde
From his childhood he had been as one filled with the perfect
knowledge of God, and even while he was yet but a lad many of the
saints, as well as certain holy women who dwelt in the free city of
his birth, had been stirred to much wonder by the grave wisdom of
his answers.
