Fear poems

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On Happiness

© James Thomson

Warm'd by the summer sun's meridian ray,
As underneath a spreading oak I lay
Contemplating the mighty load of woe,
In search of bliss that mortals undergo,

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Good Friday, A.D. 33

© Katharine Tynan

Mother, why are people crowding now and staring?
  Child, it is a malefactor goes to His doom,
To the high hill of Calvary He's faring,
  And the people pressing and pushing to make room
  Lest they miss the sight to come.

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Belgium

© Edith Wharton

Not with her ruined silver spires,
Not with her cities shamed and rent,
Perish the imperishable fires
That shape the homestead from the tent.

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The Vision

© Isabel Ecclestone Mackay

"O SISTER, sister, from the casement leaning,
What sees thy tranced eye, what is the meaning
Of the strange rapture that thy features know?"
"I see," she said, "the sunset's crimson glow."

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The Defeat of Youth

© Aldous Huxley

I. UNDER THE TREES.

There had been phantoms, pale-remembered shapes

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The Heritage

© James Russell Lowell

The rich man's son inherits lands,

  And piles of brick and stone, and gold,

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The Magic Bark

© Thomas Love Peacock

I

O freedom! power of life and light!

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The Avalanche

© Alaric Alexander Watts

'Tis Night; and Silence with unmoving wings

Broods o'er the sleeping waters;—not a sound

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Hymn IV. Dear Jesu, when, when will it be,

© John Austin

Dear Jesu, when, when will it be,

That I no more shall break with Thee!

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Deathless Principle! Arise

© Augustus Montague Toplady

Deathless principle! arise;

Soar, thou native of the skies;

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All Hail To The Czar!

© Alfred Austin

All hail to the Czar! By the fringe of the foam

That thunders, untamed, around Albion's shore,

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To My Old Schoolmaster

© John Greenleaf Whittier

AN EPISTLE NOT AFTER THE MANNER OF HORACE

Old friend, kind friend! lightly down

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Spring

© Samuel Johnson

Stern Winter now, by Spring repress'd
Forbears the long-continued strife;
And Nature, on her naked breast,
Delights to catch the gales of life.

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He Loves And He Rides Away

© Sydney Thompson Dobell

'Twas in that island summer where

They spin the morning gossamer,

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Mark Antony

© John Cleveland

Whenas the nightingale chanted her vespers,

And the wild forester couched on the ground,

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A Ballad, Shewing How An Old Woman Rode Double, And Who Rode Before Her

© Robert Southey

The Raven croak'd as she sate at her meal,
  And the Old Woman knew what he said,
  And she grew pale at the Raven's tale,
  And sicken'd and went to her bed.

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A Letter

© James Russell Lowell

From Mr. Hosea Biglow To The Hon. J.T. Buckingham, Editor Of The Boston Courier, Covering A Letter From Mr. B. Sawin, Private In The Massachusetts Regiment

This kind o' sogerin' aint a mite like our October trainin',

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The Master-Player

© Paul Laurence Dunbar

AN old worn harp that had been played

Till all its strings were loose and frayed,

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Ode On The Present Times, 27th January 1795

© Amelia Opie

Lo! Winter drives his horrors round;

  Wide o'er the rugged soil they fly;

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Epilogue

© Arthur Symons

Little waking hour of life out of sleep!

When I consider the many million years