Fear poems
/ page 55 of 454 /
On Winter
© George Moses Horton
When smiling Summer's charms are past,
The voice of music dies;
Then Winter pours his chilling blast
From rough inclement skies.
The Song Of Hiawatha III: Hiawatha's Childhood
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Downward through the evening twilight,
In the days that are forgotten,
Charleston
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
Then fold about thy beauteous form
The imperial robe thou wearest,
And front with regal port the storm
Thy foe would dream thou fearest;
If strength, and will, and courage fail
To cope with ruthless numbers,
To J. P.
© John Greenleaf Whittier
John Pierpont, the eloquent preacher and poet of Boston.
Not as a poor requital of the joy
Hyperion. Book III
© John Keats
Thus in altemate uproar and sad peace,
Amazed were those Titans utterly.
Ajanta
© Muriel Rukeyser
CAME in my full youth to the midnight cave
nerves ringing; and this thing I did alone.
Juana
© Felicia Dorothea Hemans
The night-wind shook the tapestry round an ancient palace-room,
And torches, as it rose and fell, waved thro' the gorgeous gloom,
And o'er a shadowy regal couch threw fitful gleams and red,
Where a woman with long raven hair sat watching by the dead.
Greek Funeral Chant Or Myriologue
© Felicia Dorothea Hemans
A WAIL was heard around the bed, the death-bed of the young,
Amidst her tears the Funeral Chant a mournful mother sung.
-"Ianthis! dost thou sleep?-Thou sleep'st!-but this is not the rest,
The breathing and the rosy calm, I have pillow'd on my breast!
Buddha And Brahma
© Henry Brooks Adams
Then gently, still in silence, lost in thought,
The Buddha raised the Lotus in his hand,
His eyes bent downward, fixed upon the flower.
No more! A moment so he held it only,
Then his hand sank into its former rest.
The Wonder-Working Magician - Act III
© Denis Florence MacCarthy
DEMON. Why, how is this, that using your free-will
More than my precept meant,
Say for what end, what object, what intent,
Through ignorance or boldness can it be,
You thus come forth the sun's bright face to see?
Toussaint LOuverture
© John Greenleaf Whittier
'T WAS night. The tranquil moonlight smile
With which Heaven dreams of Earth, shed down
Its beauty on the Indian isle,
On broad green field and white-walled town;
Christmas Eve
© Mathilde Blind
But I-a waif on earth where'er I roam-
Uprooted with life's bleeding hopes and fears
From that one heart that was my heart's sole home,
Feel the old pang pierce through the severing years,
And as I think upon the years to come
That fair star trembles through my falling tears.
The Secret People
© Gilbert Keith Chesterton
They have given us into the hand of new unhappy lords,
Lords without anger or honour, who dare not carry their swords.
They fight by shuffling papers; they have bright dead alien eyes;
They look at our labour and laughter as a tired man looks at flies.
And the load of their loveless pity is worse than the ancient wrongs,
Their doors are shut in the evening; and they know no songs.
Dawn In Summer
© James Thomson
When now no more th' alternate twins are fired,
And Cancer reddens with the solar blaze,
Epilogue
© Herman Melville
Yea, ape and angel, strife and old debate--
The harps of heaven and dreary gongs of hell;
Science the feud can only aggravate--
No umpire she betwixt the chimes and knell:
The running battle of the star and clod
Shall run forever--if there be no God.
The Toad
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
Then also was it that that child with the stone,
He who now tells this story, from his hands
Let the flag drop. A voice had cried to him
Too loud for denial: ``Fool. Be merciful.''
"My teacher wasn't half as nice as yours seems to be"
© Roald Dahl
"My teacher wasn't half as nice as yours seems to be.
His name was Mister Unsworth and he taught us history.
And when you didn't know a date he'd get you by the ear
And start to twist while you sat there quite paralysed with fear.
The Shape of Death
© May Swenson
What does love look like? We know
the shape of death. Death is a cloud
immense and awesome. At first a lid
is lifted from the eye of light:
there is a clap of sound, a white blossom
The Ring And The Book - Chapter III - The Other Half-Rome
© Robert Browning
ANOTHER DAY that finds her living yet,
Little Pompilia, with the patient brow
