God poems
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Failure
© George Essex Evans
THE BOY went out from the ranges grim,
And the breath of the mountains went with him;
The Night Of The Lion
© Alfred Noyes
"_And that a reply be received before midnight._"
_British Ultimatum_.
To the Right Honourable The Countess Dowager Of Devonshire, On A Piece Of Wiessen's
© Matthew Prior
Wiessen and nature held a long contest
If she created or he painted best;
To my Comrade, Moses J. Jackson, Scoffer at this Scholarship
© Alfred Edward Housman
As we went walking far and wide
Through silent fields and countryside,
The Grand Canyon
© Henry Van Dyke
How still it is! Dear God, I hardly dare
To breathe, for fear the fathomless abyss
Will draw me down into eternal sleep.
To a Greek Marble
© William Langland
Pótuia, pótuia
White grave goddess,
Pity my sadness,
O silence of Paros.
Waterloo Day
© Edith Nesbit
THIS is the day of our glory; this is our day to weep.
Under her dusty laurels England stirs in her sleep;
Dreams of her days of honour, terrible days that are dead,
Days of the making of story, days when the sword was red,
Faringdon Hill. Book II
© Henry James Pye
The sultry hours are past, and Phbus now
Spreads yellower rays along the mountain's brow:
Dusk
© Jose Asuncion Silva
The lamp that stands beside the crib
Is not yet lighted to warm the gloom
Of the blueish, opaque light falling
Through the curtains of late afternoon.
R. I. in commendation of this worke
© Roger Cotton
You idle Drones, that fleece and cannot feede,
You speechles ones, that can not barke nor bay:
An Elegie on Henry, fourth Erle of Northumberlande
© John Skelton
The noblenes of the north, this valiant lord and knight,
As man that was innocent of trechery or traine,
Pressed forth boldly to withstand the myght,
And, lyke marciall Hector, he faught them agayne,
Trustyng in noble men that were with him there;
Bot al they fled from hym for falshode or fere.
The Vision Of Piers Plowman - Part 16
© William Langland
"Now faire falle yow,' quod I tho, "for youre faire shewyng!
For Haukyns love the Actif Man evere I shal yow lovye.
Farewell To Malta
© George Gordon Byron
Adieu, ye joys of La Valette!
Adieu, sirocco, sun, and sweat!
Adieu, thou palace rarely enter'd!
Adieu, ye mansions where I've ventured!
Metamorphoses: Book The Thirteenth
© Ovid
The End of the Thirteenth Book.
Translated into English verse under the direction of
Sir Samuel Garth by John Dryden, Alexander Pope, Joseph Addison,
William Congreve and other eminent hands
