Fear poems

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Aurora Leigh: Book Seventh

© Elizabeth Barrett Browning

I broke on Marian there. "Yet she herself,
A wife, I think, had scandals of her own,-
A lover not her husband."

The Origin Of Flattery

© Charlotte Turner Smith

WHEN Jove, in anger to the sons of the earth,
Bid artful Vulcan give Pandora birth,
And sent the fatal gift which spread below
O'er all the wretched race contagious woe,

The Pleasures of Memory - Part II.

© Samuel Rogers

Sweet Memory, wafted by thy gentle gale,
Oft up the stream of Time I turn my sail,
To view the fairy-haunts of long-lost hours.
Blest with far greener shades, far fresher flowers.

Far into Wartburg, through all Italy,
In every town the Pope sent messengers,
Riding in furious haste; among them, one
Who bore a branch of dry wood burst in bloom;
The pastoral rod had borne green shoots of spring,
And leaf and blossom. God is merciful.

I Wonder Where My Papa Is?

© Julia A Moore

I wonder where my papa is,

Oh, where could he have gone,

New-Englands Crisis

© Benjamin Tompson

IN seventy five the Critick of our years

Commenc'd our war with Phillip and his peers.

The Ghost - Book III

© Charles Churchill

It was the hour, when housewife Morn

With pearl and linen hangs each thorn;

The Very Merry Voyage Of The Macaroni Man

© Carolyn Wells

This figure here before you is a Macaroni Man,

Who is built, as you may notice, on a most ingenious plan.

A Dream Of Venice

© Ada Cambridge

Numb, half asleep, and dazed with whirl of wheels,

And gasp of steam, and measured clank of chains,

Marmion: Introduction to Canto II.

© Sir Walter Scott

But chief 'twere sweet to think such life
(Though but escape from fortune's strife),
Something most matchless good and wise,
A great and grateful sacrifice;
And deem each hour to musing given
A step upon the road to heaven.

By Word of Mouth

© Rudyard Kipling

Not though you die to-night, O Sweet, and wail,
A spectre at my door,
Shall mortal Fear make Love immortal fail -
I shall but love you more,
Who, from Death's House returning, give me still
One moment's comfort in my matchless ill.

Fragment Of A Satire On Satire

© Percy Bysshe Shelley

If gibbets, axes, confiscations, chains,
And racks of subtle torture, if the pains
Of shame, of fiery Hells tempestuous wave,
Seen through the caverns of the shadowy grave,

The Forest Sanctuary - Part II.

© Felicia Dorothea Hemans

Ave, sanctissima!
'Tis night-fall on the sea;
Ora pro nobis!
Our souls rise to thee!

Fragment

Descriptive of the miseries of War; from a Poem
called "The Emigrants," printed in 1793.
TO a wild mountain, whose bare summit hides
Its broken eminence in clouds; whose steeps

Hans Carvel's Ring

HANS CARVEL took, when weak and late in life;

A girl, with youth and beauteous charms to wife;

Fragment XIII

His spear leaned against the mossy rock.
His shield lay by him on the grass.
Whilst he thought on the mighty Carbre
whom he slew in battle, the scout of
the ocean came, Moran the son of Fithil.