Fear poems
/ page 49 of 454 /
The Bishop and the Busman
© William Schwenck Gilbert
It was a Bishop bold,
And London was his see,
He was short and stout and round about
And zealous as could be.
A Walk In The Shrubbery
© Charlotte Turner Smith
To the Cistus or Rock Rose, a beautiful plant, whose flowers
expand, and fall off twice in twenty-four hours.
The Gipsy's Camp
© John Clare
How oft on Sundays, when I'd time to tramp,
My rambles led me to a gipsy's camp,
The Plea Of The Midsummer Fairies
© Thomas Hood
I
'Twas in that mellow season of the year
When the hot sun singes the yellow leaves
Till they be gold,and with a broader sphere
The Hospital Window
© James Dickey
I have just come down from my father.
Higher and higher he lies
Above me in a blue light
Shed by a tinted window.
I drop through six white floors
And then step out onto pavement.
TO Mr.T.W.
© John Donne
PREGNANT again with th' old twins, Hope and Fear,
Oft have I asked for thee, both how and where
Thou wert ; and what my hopes of letters were ;
The Guest House
© John Le Gay Brereton
What imps are these that come with scowl and leer?
Black motes upon the mornings amber beam,
Ode II
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
While wounded men leaped on their feet to hear,
And dying men upraised their eyes to see
How on the conflict's lowering canopy,
Dawned the first rainbow hues of victory!
Hyperion. Book II
© John Keats
Just at the self-same beat of Time's wide wings
Hyperion slid into the rustled air,
Wilson
© John Greenleaf Whittier
The lowliest born of all the land,
He wrung from Fate's reluctant hand
The gifts which happier boyhood claims;
And, tasting on a thankless soil
The bitter bread of unpaid toil,
He fed his soul with noble aims.
Of The Boy and Butterfly
© John Bunyan
Behold, how eager this our little boy
Is for a butterfly, as if all joy,
All profits, honours, yea, and lasting pleasures,
Were wrapped up in her, or the richest treasures
Found in her would be bundled up together,
When all her all is lighter than a feather.
Epitaph For A Roman Catholic Churchyard
© John Kenyon
Weary centinel of earth,
Grief's companion from my birth,
Ad Finem
© Wilcox Ella Wheeler
On the white throat of useless passion
That scorched my soul with its burning breath
Italy : 49. The Feluca
© Samuel Rogers
Day glimmered; and beyond the precipice
(Which my mule followed as in love with fear,
Or as in scorn, yet more and more inclining
To tempt the danger where it menaced most)
The Future
© Edgar Albert Guest
"The worst is yet to come:"
So wail the doubters glum,
But here's the better view;
"My best I've yet to do."
Jerusalem Delivered - Book 01 - part 01
© Torquato Tasso
THE ARGUMENT.
God sends his angel to Tortosa down,
The Rendition
© John Greenleaf Whittier
I HEARD the train's shrill whistle call,
I saw an earnest look beseech,
And rather by that look than speech
My neighbor told me all.
