Fear poems
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The Dirge
© Henry King
VVhat is th' Existence of Mans life?
But open war, or slumber'd strife.
Where sickness to his sense presents
The combat of the Elements:
Dark Is The Tomb
© Dora Sigerson Shorter
Dark is the tomb, yet holdeth but one fear
In all its chill and silent majesty,
The Rondeau
© Henry Austin Dobson
You bid me try, Blue Eyes, to write
A Rondeau. What! Forthwith!--Tonight?
Reflect. Some skill I have, 'tis true;
But thirteen lines!--and rhymed on two!--
"Refrain," as well. Ah, hapless plight!
Faith And Despondency
© Emily Jane Brontë
"The winter wind is loud and wild,
Come close to me, my darling child;
Forsake thy books, and mateless play;
And, while the night is gathering gray,
We'll talk its pensive hours away;-
Lines Composed a Few Miles above Tintern Abbey
© William Wordsworth
Five years have past; five summers, with the length
Of five long winters! and again I hear
Aurora Leigh: Book Fourth
© Elizabeth Barrett Browning
She, at that,
Looked blindly in his face, as when one looks
Through driving autumn-rains to find the sky.
He went on speaking.
The Decision Of Fortune
© Anne Kingsmill Finch
Fortune well-Pictur'd on a rolling Globe,
With waving Locks, and thin transparent Robe,
Voices Of The Night : The Beleaguered City
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
I have read, in some old, marvellous tale,
Some legend strange and vague,
That a midnight host of spectres pale
Beleaguered the walls of Prague.
The Pierrot Of The Minute
© Ernest Christopher Dowson
_A glade in the Parc due Petit Trianon. In the centre a Doric temple with
steps coming down the stage. On the left a little Cupid on a pedestal.
Twilight._
Song. "I am wearing away"
© Amelia Opie
I am wearing away like the snow in the sun,
I am wearing away from the pain in my heart;
But ne'er shall he know, who my peace has undone,
How bitter, how lasting, how deep is my smart.
Eclogue the Fourth Agib
© William Taylor Collins
In vain Circassia boasts her spicy groves,
For ever famed for pure and happy loves;
In vain she boasts her fairest of the fair,
Their eyes' blue languish and their golden hair!
Those eyes in tears their fruitless grief must send;
Those hairs the Tartar's cruel hand shall rend.
This Life.
© Robert Crawford
This life that glides away
As in a night and day
This that is shade and shine from Night brought forth
To Night returning on a cloudy wing,
The Task: Book V. -- The Winter Morning Walk
© William Cowper
Tis morning; and the sun, with ruddy orb
Ascending, fires the horizon; while the clouds,
The Greek At Constantinople
© Richard Monckton Milnes
The cypresses of Scutari
In stern magnificence look down
On the bright lake and stream of sea,
And glittering theatre of town:
Lot In Sodom
© John Newton
How hurtful was the choice of Lot,
Who took up his abode
Because it was a fruitful spot
With them who feared not God!
Elegy on the Death of a Frog
© David Lewis
Ya summer day when I were mowin',
When flooers of monny soorts were growin',
Which fast befoor my scythe fell bowin',
As I advance,
A frog I cut widout my knowin'-
A sad mischance.
Country At War
© Robert Graves
And what of home--how goes it, boys,
While we die here in stench and noise?
