Fear poems

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The South Country

© Hilaire Belloc

When I am living in the Midlands
That are sodden and unkind,
I light my lamp in the evening:
My work is left behind;
And the great hills of the South Country
Come back into my mind.

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Sonnet 119: "What potions have I drunk of Siren tears,..."

© William Shakespeare

What potions have I drunk of Siren tears,

Distilled from limbecks foul as hell within,

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The Epicure

© Abraham Cowley

FILL the bowl with rosy wine,

Around our temples roses twine.

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The Glass Jar

© Gwen Harwood

Wrapped in a scarf his monstrance stood
ready to bless, to exorcize
monsters that whispering would rise
nightly from the intricate wood
that ringed his bed, to light with total power
the holy commonplace of field and flower.

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To Eleonora Duse I

© Sara Teasdale

Oh beauty that is filled so full of tears,
Where every passing anguish left its trace,
I pray you grant to me this depth of grace:
That I may see before it disappears,

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Hidden Harmony

© Dante Gabriel Rossetti

THE thoughts in me are very calm and high

That think upon your love: yet by your leave

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Hymn On Solitude

© James Thomson

Hail, mildly pleasing Solitude,
Companion of the wise and good,
But from whose holy piercing eye
The herd of fools and villains fly.

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Stanzas Written In My Pocket Copy Of Thomson’s "Castle Of Indolence"

© William Wordsworth

WITHIN our happy Castle there dwelt One
Whom without blame I may not overlook;
For never sun on living creature shone
Who more devout enjoyment with us took:

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The Distant Guns

© Robert Laurence Binyon

Negligently the cart--track descends into the valley;
The drench of the rain has passed and the clover breathes;
Scents are abroad; in the valley a mist whitens
Along the hidden river, where the evening smiles.

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Advice To My Best Brother, Coll: Francis Lovelace.

© Richard Lovelace

  Frank, wil't live unhandsomely? trust not too far
Thy self to waving seas: for what thy star,
Calculated by sure event, must be,
Look in the glassy-epithete, and see.

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The Shepherds Calendar - November

© John Clare

The landscape sleeps in mist from morn till noon;
And, if the sun looks through, 'tis with a face
Beamless and pale and round, as if the moon,
When done the journey of her nightly race,

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The King's Missive

© John Greenleaf Whittier

UNDER the great hill sloping bare

To cove and meadow and Common lot,

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Of The Nature Of Things: Book I - Part 02 - Substance Is Eternal

© Lucretius

This terror, then, this darkness of the mind,

Not sunrise with its flaring spokes of light,

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The Rich Man And Lazarus

© John Newton

A Worldling spent each day
In luxury and state;
While a believer lay,
A beggar at his gate:
Think not the Lord's appointments strange,
Death made a great and lasting change.

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An Ode - Humbly Inscribed To The Queen, On the Glorious Success of Her Majesty's Arms

© Matthew Prior

When great Augustus govern'd ancient Rome,

And sent his conquering bands to foreign wars,

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The Muses Threnodie: Fifth Muse

© Henry Adamson

Yet bold attempt and dangerous, said I,

Upon these kinde of men such chance to try,

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Evangeline: Part The Second. IV.

© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

FAR in the West there lies a desert land, where the mountains

Lift, through perpetual snows, their lofty and luminous summits.

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The Life Theoretic

© Aldous Huxley

While I have been fumbling over books

  And thinking about God and the Devil and all,

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Three Women

© Sylvia Plath

A Poem for Three Voices

Setting:  A Maternity Ward and round about

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The Quiet Lodger

© James Whitcomb Riley

The man that rooms next door to me:

  Two weeks ago, this very night,