Fear poems
/ page 386 of 454 /The Angel
© William Blake
I Dreamt a Dream! what can it mean?
And that I was a maiden Queen:
Guarded by an Angel mild;
Witless woe, was neer beguil'd!
The Human Abstract
© William Blake
Pity would be no more,
If we did not make somebody Poor;
And Mercy no more could be.
If all were as happy as we;
The Land Of Dreams
© William Blake
Awake, awake my little Boy!
Thou wast thy Mother's only joy:
Why dost thou weep in thy gentle sleep?
Awake! thy Father does thee keep.
London
© William Blake
I wander thro' each charter'd street.
Near where the charter'd Thames does flow
A mark in every face I meet
Marks of weakness, marks of woe.
Love's Secret
© William Blake
Never seek to tell thy love,
Love that never told can be;
For the gentle wind doth move
Silently, invisibly.
The Tyger
© William Blake
Tyger Tyger. burning bright,
In the forests of the night;
What immortal hand or eye.
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?
The School Boy
© William Blake
I love to rise in a summer morn,
When the birds sing on every tree;
The distant huntsman winds his horn,
And the sky-lark sings with me.
O! what sweet company.
A Poison Tree
© William Blake
I was angry with my friend;
I told my wrath, my wrath did end.
I was angry with my foe:
I told it not, my wrath did grow.
The Chimney Sweeper (Innocence)
© William Blake
When my mother died I was very young,
And my father sold me while yet my tongue,
Could scarcely cry weep weep weep weep,
So your chimneys I sweep & in soot I sleep.
Words For A Trumpet Chorale Celebrating The Autumn
© Delmore Schwartz
Come and come forth and come up from the cup of
Your dumbness, stunned and numb, come with
The statues and believed in,
Thinking this is nothing, deceived.
Prothalamion
© Delmore Schwartz
"little soul, little flirting,
little perverse one
where are you off to now?
little wan one, firm one
little exposed one...
and never make fun of me again."
He Knows All There Is To Know. Now He Is Acquainted With The Day And Night
© Delmore Schwartz
Whose wood this is I think I know:
He made it sacred long ago:
He will expect me, far or near
To watch that wood immense with snow.
Poem (Remember midsummer: the fragrance of box)
© Delmore Schwartz
Remember midsummer: the fragrance of box, of white
roses
And of phlox. And upon a honeysuckle branch
Three snails hanging with infinite delicacy
The Sin Of Hamlet
© Delmore Schwartz
And when it comes, escape is small; the door
Creaks; the worms of fear spread veins; the furtive
Fugitive, looking backward, sees his
Ghost in the mirror, his shameful eyes, his mouth diseased.
What Is To Be Given
© Delmore Schwartz
What is to be given,
Is spirit, yet animal,
Colored, like heaven,
Blue, yellow, beautiful.
At This Moment Of Time
© Delmore Schwartz
Some who are uncertain compel me. They fear
The Ace of Spades. They fear
Loves offered suddenly, turning from the mantelpiece,
Sweet with decision. And they distrust
A Young Child And His Pregnant Mother
© Delmore Schwartz
Measured by his distance from the sky,
Spoken in two vowels,
I am I.
The Cold
© Erin Moure
Whose sympathetic concatenation? Whose picture
withstood "ordeal"?
Who caressed "that tiger"?
Whose laugh at an airport called forth? Whose ground
shifted?
Ocean: An Ode. Concluding With A Wish.
© Edward Young
Sweet rural scene Of flocks and green!
At careless ease my limbs are spread;
All nature still, But yonder rill;
And listening pines nod o'er my head:
Tamerlane
© Edgar Allan Poe
On mountain soil I first drew life:
The mists of the Taglay have shed
Nightly their dews upon my head,
And, I believe, the winged strife
And tumult of the headlong air
Have nestled in my very hair.