Fear poems
/ page 208 of 454 /Memory
© James Lionel Michael
As a Hen fears for her chickens, when the shadow
Of the forest-eagles wing comes floating over,
And the little ones are truant in the meadow,
And she, screaming, calls them under her wings cover;
Paradise Regain'd : Book I.
© John Milton
I, who erewhile the happy Garden sung
By one man's disobedience lost, now sing
Recovered Paradise to all mankind,
Sea-Piece
© Felicia Dorothea Hemans
SUBLIME is thy prospect, thou proud-rolling Ocean,
And Fancy surveys thee with solemn delight;
When thy mountainous billows are wild in commotion,
And the tempest is rous'd by the spirits of night!
The Four Seasons : Summer
© James Thomson
From brightening fields of ether fair disclosed,
Child of the Sun, refulgent Summer comes,
In pride of youth, and felt through Nature's depth:
He comes attended by the sultry Hours,
Another Spring Carol
© Alfred Austin
Now Winter hath drifted
To bygone years,
And the sod is uplifted
By crocus spears;
And out of the hive the bee wings humming,
And we know that the Spring, the Spring, is coming.
A Lay Of St. Nicholas
© Richard Harris Barham
Lord Abbot! Lord Abbot! I'd fain confess;
I am a-weary, and worn with woe;
Many a grief doth my heart oppress,
And haunt me whithersoever I go!'
The Glare! The Heat!
© Fyodor Ivanovich Tyutchev
The glare! The heat! O Nice, you blind me!
A dull unease upon me settles…
An Old Idea
© Dinah Maria Mulock Craik
STREAM of my life, dull, placid river, flow!
I have no fear of the ingulfing seas:
Neither I look before me nor behind,
But, lying mute with wave-dipped hand, float on.
Winter In Canada
© Rosanna Eleanor Leprohon
Nay tell me not that, with shivering fear,
You shrink from the thought of wintering here;
That the cold intense of our winter-time
Is severe as that of Siberian clime,
And, if wishes could waft you across the sea,
You, to-night, in your English home would be.
Unsated Memory
© Robert Laurence Binyon
Emerging from deep sleep my eyes unseal
To a pursuing strangeness. O to be
Where but a moment past I was, though where
The place, the time I know not, only feel
Far from this banished and so shrunken me,
Struck conscious to the alien dawn's blank peer!
The Right to Die
© Paul Laurence Dunbar
I have no fancy for that ancient cant
That makes us masters of our destinies,
The Troubadour. Canto 3
© Letitia Elizabeth Landon
But sadness moved him when he gave
DE VALENCE to his lowly grave,--
The grave where the wild flowers were sleeping,
And one pale olive-tree was weeping,--
And placed the rude stone cross to show
A Christian hero lay below.
Epitaph On A Free But Tame Redbreast, A Favourite Of Miss Sally Hurdis
© William Cowper
These are not dew-drops, these are tears,
And tears by Sally shed
For absent Robin, who she fears
With too much cause, is dead.
Shadow And Shade
© Allen Tate
The shadow streamed into the wall-
The wall, break-shadow in the blast;
We lingered wordless while a tall
Shade enclouded the shadow's cast.
Voices Of The Night : Prelude
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Pleasant it was, when woods were green,
And winds were soft and low,
To lie amid some sylvan scene,
Where, the long drooping boughs between
Shadows dark and sunlight sheen
Alternate come and go;
In The Wood Of Finvara
© Arthur Symons
I have grown tired of sorrow and human tears;
Life is a dream in the night, a fear among fears,
A naked runner lost in a storm of spears.
I have grown tired of rapture and love's desire;
Love is a flaming heart, and its flames aspire
Till they cloud the soul in the smoke of a windy fire.
Flora
© Charlotte Turner Smith
REMOTE from scenes, where the o'erwearied mind
Shrinks from the crimes and follies of mankind,
Bereavement Of The Fields
© William Wilfred Campbell
Soft fall the February snows, and soft
Falls on my heart the snow of wintry pain;
For never more, by wood or field or croft,
Will he we knew walk with his loved again;