Friendship poems
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Letter To Maria Gisborne
© Percy Bysshe Shelley
The spider spreads her webs, whether she be
In poet's tower, cellar, or barn, or tree;
The silk-worm in the dark green mulberry leaves
His winding sheet and cradle ever weaves;
The Author Upon Himself
© Jonathan Swift
By an old pursued,
A crazy prelate, and a royal prude;
By dull divines, who look with envious eyes
On ev'ry genius that attempts to rise;
Cyder: Book I
© John Arthur Phillips
What Soil the Apple loves, what Care is due
To Orchats, timeliest when to press the Fruits,
Thy Gift, Pomona, in Miltonian Verse
Adventrous I presume to sing; of Verse
Nor skill'd, nor studious: But my Native Soil
Invites me, and the Theme as yet unsung.
The Girdle Of Friendship
© Oliver Wendell Holmes
SHE gathered at her slender waist
The beauteous robe she wore;
Its folds a golden belt embraced,
One rose-hued gem it bore.
I Shall Soon Fall Prey To Rot
© Nikolay Alekseyevich Nekrasov
I shall soon fall prey to rot.
Though it's hard to die, it's good to die;
I shall ask for no one's pity,
And there's no one who would pity me.
Songs Set To Music: 1. Set By Mr. Abel
© Matthew Prior
Reading ends in melancholy,
Wine breeds vices and diseases,
Maha-Bharata, The Epic Of Ancient India - Book VII - Udyoga -- (The Preparation)
© Romesh Chunder Dutt
And to far Hastina's palace Krishna went to sue for peace,
Raised his voice against the slaughter, begged that strife and feud
should cease!
Marmion: Introduction to Canto III.
© Sir Walter Scott
Like April morning clouds, that pass,
With varying shadow, o'er the grass,
His Epitaph
© William Henry Ogilvie
On a little old bush racecourse at the back of No Mans Land,
Where the mulgas mark the furlongs and a dead log marks the stand,
Quaker Hill
© Hart Crane
Perspective never withers from their eyes;
They keep that docile edict of the Spring
"The Laurels"
© John Greenleaf Whittier
FROM these wild rocks I look to-day
O'er leagues of dancing waves, and see
The far, low coast-line stretch away
To where our river meets the sea.
Fitz Adam's Story
© James Russell Lowell
The next whose fortune 'twas a tale to tell
Was one whom men, before they thought, loved well,
Twilight
© Caroline Norton
When the mournful Jewish mother
Laid her infant down to rest,
In doubt, and fear, and sorrow,
On the water's changeful breast;
A Letter Written For My Son To A Young Gentleman
© Mary Barber
O would Mandana cross the Seas,
And hear a People speak her Praise,
With Britain vie to hail the Dame,
Who, Granville, could exalt thy Name,
Transmitting down thy Fame with Care,
And double Lustre, in her Heir!
Good Tidings; Or News From The Farm
© Robert Bloomfield
Where's the Blind Child, so admirably fair,
With guileless dimples, and with flaxen hair
Epitaph: On the Reverend Mr. Penrose
© Hannah More
If social manners, if the gentlest mind,
If zeal for God, and love for human kind,
If all the charities which life endear,
May claim affection, or demand a tear,
Then, o'er Penrose's venerable urn
Domestic love may weep, and friendship mourn.
Dedication To Lady Windsor
© Alfred Austin
Where violets blue to olives gray
From furrows brown lift laughing eyes,
And silvery Mensola sings its way
Through terraced slopes, nor seeks to stay,
But onward and downward leaps and flies;
Ode - On the Death of a Young Lady
© John Logan
The peace of Heaven attend thy shade,
My early friend, my favourite maid!
When life was new, companions gay,
We hail'd the morning of our day.
Uncertainty
© Adam Mickiewicz
While I don't see you, I don't shed a tear
I never lose my senses when you're near,
But, with our meetings few and far between
There's something missing, waiting to be seen.
Is there a name for what I'm thinking of?
Are we just friends? Or should I call this love?
