Fear poems
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On The Last Epiphany (Or Christ Coming To Judgment)
© Thomas Chatterton
Behold! just coming from above,
The judge, with majesty and love!
Eight Years Old
© Algernon Charles Swinburne
SUN, whom the faltering snow-cloud fears,
Rise, let the time of year be May,
Imitation Of Lines
© Helen Maria Williams
ADDRESSED BY M. D----, A YOUNG MAN OF TWENTY-
FOUR YEARS OF AGE, THE NIGHT BEFORE HIS
EXECUTION, TO A YOUNG LADY TO WHOM
HE WAS ENGAGED.--1794.
The Mystic Selvagee
© William Schwenck Gilbert
Perhaps already you may know
SIR BLENNERHASSET PORTICO?
Steinli Von Slang
© Charles Godfrey Leland
I.
DER watchman look out from his tower
Ash de Abendgold glimmer grew dim,
Und saw on de road troo de Gauer
When All Is Done
© Paul Laurence Dunbar
When all is done, and my last word is said,
And ye who loved me murmur, "He is dead,"
Let no one weep, for fear that I should know,
And sorrow too that ye should sorrow so.
Riding To Town
© Paul Laurence Dunbar
WHEN labor is light and the morning is fair,
I find it a pleasure beyond all compare
The Year-King
© Denis Florence MacCarthy
It is the last of all the days,
The day on which the Old Year dies.
Ah! yes, the fated hour is near;
I see upon his snow-white bier
Outstretched the weary wanderer lies,
And mark his dying gaze.
Pride In Heaven
© George Moses Horton
On heaven's ethereal plain,
Where hostile rage ambition first begun,
Grandmother's Story Of Bunker Hill Battle (as she saw it from the Belfry)
© Oliver Wendell Holmes
'Tis like stirring living embers when, at eighty, one remembers
All the achings and the quakings of "the times that tried men's souls";
When I talk of Whig and Tory, when I tell the Rebel story,
To you the words are ashes, but to me they're burning coals.
Ghazal 01
© Shams al-Din Hafiz
O beautiful wine-bearer, bring forth the cup and put it to my lips
Path of love seemed easy at first, what came was many hardships.
An Epistle To A Friend
© Samuel Rogers
When, with a Reaumur's skill, thy curious mind
Has class'd the insect-tribes of human-kind,
Each with its busy hum, or gilded wing,
Its subtle, web-work, or its venom'd sting;
The Maid-Martyr
© Jean Ingelow
Her face, O! it was wonderful to me,
There was not in it what I look'd for-no,
I never saw a maid go to her death,
How should I dream that face and the dumb soul?
"The people have drunk the wine of peace"
© Lesbia Harford
The people have drunk the wine of peace
In the streets of town.
They smile as they drift with hearts at rest
Uphill and down.
Blue and Buff
© George Canning
Come, sportive Muse, with plume satiric,
Describe each lawless, bold empiric,
Who, with the Blue and Buffs' sad crew,
Now stripp'd in buff, shall look so blue.
To Lucasta
© Richard Lovelace
I.
I laugh and sing, but cannot tell
Whether the folly on't sounds well;
But then I groan,
Sonnet XII
© Fernando António Nogueira Pessoa
As the lone, frighted user of a night-road
Suddenly turns round, nothing to detect,
