Fear poems
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Lines Written In The Belief That The Ancient Roman Festival Of The Dead Was Called Ambarvalia
© Rupert Brooke
Swings the way still by hollow and hill,
And all the world's a song;
"She's far," it sings me, "but fair," it rings me,
"Quiet," it laughs, "and strong!"
In Rufum. Catul. Ep. 64
© Richard Lovelace
IN RUFUM. CATUL. EP. 64.
Noli admirari, quare tibi foemina nulla,
Rufe, velit tenerum supposuisse femur;
Non ullam rarae labefactes munere vestis,
Mary and Gabriel
© Rupert Brooke
Young Mary, loitering once her garden way,
Felt a warm splendour grow in the April day,
As wine that blushes water through. And soon,
Out of the gold air of the afternoon,
Day That I Have Loved
© Rupert Brooke
Tenderly, day that I have loved, I close your eyes,
And smooth your quiet brow, and fold your thin dead hands.
The grey veils of the half-light deepen; colour dies.
I bear you, a light burden, to the shrouded sands,
Messengers Of Dreams
© William Stanley Braithwaite
My heart can tell them, every one,
The messengers of dreams that run
Above the tree-tops in the sun.
The Call
© Rupert Brooke
Out of the nothingness of sleep,
The slow dreams of Eternity,
There was a thunder on the deep:
I came, because you called to me.
Jerusalem Delivered - Book 02 - part 01
© Torquato Tasso
THE ARGUMENT.
Ismeno conjures, but his charms are vain;
The Woodsmen Of San Juan
© Jose Asuncion Silva
See the woodsmen of San Juan,
They want bread before its gone.
Sss-sss-sawing,
Sawing on!
Finding
© Rupert Brooke
From the candles and dumb shadows,
And the house where love had died,
I stole to the vast moonlight
And the whispering life outside.
The Dead Wife
© Dora Sigerson Shorter
Thrice turned she in her narrow bed,
His tears disturbed her rest;
The Stricken South To The North
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
WHEN ruthful time the South's memorial places--
Her heroes' graves--had wreathed in grass and flowers;
When Peace ethereal, crowned by all her graces,
Returned to make more bright the summer hours;
Success
© Rupert Brooke
I think if you had loved me when I wanted;
If I'd looked up one day, and seen your eyes,
And found my wild sick blasphemous prayer granted,
And your brown face, that's full of pity and wise,
Easter-Day
© Alessandro Manzoni
Yes, HE IS RISEN. That hallowéd head
No longer lies wrapped in the cloth of the dead.
HE IS SURELY RISEN. At the side of the tomb
Lies the overturned door of the solitary room.
Like the valorous champion drunk after strife
The LORD has awaked to omnipotent life;
Heaven
© Rupert Brooke
Fish (fly-replete, in depth of June,
Dawdling away their wat'ry noon)
Ponder deep wisdom, dark or clear,
Each secret fishy hope or fear.
A Thought of Henry Kendall
© Anonymous
Had I gone first he surely would have writ
Some kindly words in loving memory --
The Old Maid's Story
© Ada Cambridge
Ay, many and many a year's gone by,
Since the dawn of that day in spring,
The Forester
© Robert Bloomfield
Born in a dark wood's lonely dell,
Where echoes roar'd, and tendrils curl'd
