Future poems
/ page 46 of 121 /
Alfred. Book VI.
© Henry James Pye
But when he views, along the tented field,
With trailing banner, and inverted shield,
Young Donald, borne by Scotia's weeping bands,
In deeper woe the generous hero stands.
For The New Year
© Edith Nesbit
FLUSHED with a crimson sunrise beauty,
The fair new year its promise gave;
Pan Beniowski - Final Part Of Canto Five
© Juliusz Slowacki
Surging like a vast current of salmon or sheatfish,
Coiling up and down like an iron serpent
Kensington Garden
© Thomas Tickell
Where Kensington, high o'er the neighbouring lands
Midst greens and sweets, a regal fabric, stands,
In an Almshouse
© Augusta Davies Webster
They said you were not pretty, owed your charm
to choice of ribbons from your father's shop,
but, as for me, I saw not if you wore
too many ribbons or too few, nor sought
what charms you had beyond that one I knew,
the kind and honest look in your grey eyes.
Present And Future
© Robert Laurence Binyon
Look, as a mother bending o'er her boy,
The sleeping boy that in her bosom lies,
Gazes upon him in a trance of joy
With earnest, infinitely tender eyes,
To John Gorham Palfrey
© James Russell Lowell
There are who triumph in a losing cause,
Who can put on defeat, as 'twere a wreath
Unwithering in the adverse popular breath,
Safe from the blasting demagogue's applause;
'Tis they who stand for Freedom and God's laws.
The Golden Corpse
© Stephen Vincent Benet
Stripped country, shrunken as a beggar's heart,
Inviolate landscape, hardened into steel,
Where the cold soil shatters under heel
Day after day like armor cracked apart.
To My Husband on Our Wedding-Day
© Rosanna Eleanor Leprohon
I leave for thee, beloved one,
The home and friends of youth,
O'Connell
© Denis Florence MacCarthy
So let the verse in echoing accents ring,
So proudly sing,
With intermittent wail,
The nation's dead, but sceptred King,
The glory of the Gael.
To Fiona (Nineteen Months Old)
© William Stanley Braithwaite
Now my songs shall grow
Sweeter, year by year,
Just because I know
You shall read them, dear,
To Charles Sumner
© John Greenleaf Whittier
If I have seemed more prompt to censure wrong
Than praise the right; if seldom to thine ear
Verse
© Nizar Qabbani
1
Friends
The old word is dead.
The old books are dead.
Our speech with holes like worn-out shoes is dead.
Dead is the mind that led to defeat.
The Optimist
© James Russell Lowell
Turbid from London's noise and smoke,
Here I find air and quiet too;
Air filtered through the beech and oak,
Quiet by nothing harsher broke
Than wood-dove's meditative coo.
A Friend's Greeting
© Edgar Albert Guest
DIAMONDS wouldn't tell yer all I really think of you,
The costliest gift the goldsmith makes I'm sure would never do.
There's nothing known that gold can buy that I could ever send
That could explain how glad I am to have yer fer a friend.
The Salad. By Virgil
© William Cowper
The winter night now well nigh worn away,
The wakeful cock proclaimed approaching day,
When Simulus, poor tenant of a farm
Of narrowest limits, heard the shrill alarm,
The Missionary - Canto First
© William Lisle Bowles
Three hundred brandished spears shone to the sky:
We perish, or we leave our country free;
Father, our blood for Chili and for thee!
The mountain-chief essayed his club to wield,
And shook the dust indignant from the shield.
Then spoke:--
The Builders
© Henry Van Dyke
ODE FOR THE HUNDRED AND FIFTIETH ANNIVERSARY OF PRINCETON COLLEGE
October 21, 1896
