Good poems

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After Death

© Algernon Charles Swinburne

THE FOUR boards of the coffin lid

Heard all the dead man did.

Children's Playground In The City

© Edith Nesbit

THIS is a place where men laid their dead,

Each with his life-tale of good or ill;

Tea

© Margaret Widdemer

THEY'VE flowers and cakes and candle-light,

And chair by crowded chair,

The Great Chance

© Katharine Tynan

NOW strikes the hour upon the clock
The black sheep may rebuild the years
May lift the father's pride he broke
And wipe away his mother's tears.

Not to desire, to admit, to adore,
Casting the robe of the soul that you wore
Just as the soul casts the body's robe down.
This is man's destiny, this is man's crown.
This is the splendour, the end of the feast;
This is the light of the Star in the East.

The Unhappy Lot Of Mr. Knott

© James Russell Lowell

My worthy friend, A. Gordon Knott,
From business snug withdrawn,
Was much contented with a lot
That would contain a Tudor cot
'Twixt twelve feet square of garden-plot,
And twelve feet more of lawn.

He Dwelleth in You

© Augustus Montague Toplady

Saviour, I thy word believe,

My unbelief remove;

The Ministers Daughter

© John Greenleaf Whittier

In the minister's morning sermon
He had told of the primal fall,
And how thenceforth the wrath of God
Rested on each and all.

God Bless Our Good and Gracious King

© John Wilmot

God bless our good and gracious kind,
Whose promise none relies on,
Who never said a foolish thing,
Nor ever did a wise one.

Winstanley

© Jean Ingelow

Quoth the cedar to the reeds and rushes,
“Water-grass, you know not what I do;
Know not of my storms, nor of my hushes.
And—I know not you.”

Arcadia Rediviva

© James Russell Lowell

I, walking the familiar street,
While a crammed horse-car jingled through it,
Was lifted from my prosy feet
And in Arcadia ere I knew it.

To My Godchild Alice

© Dinah Maria Mulock Craik

ALICE, Alice, little Alice,
My new-christened baby Alice,
Can there ever rhymes be found
To express my wishes for thee

A Message Of Jeff Davis In Secret Session

I sent you a messige, my friens, t'other day,

To tell you I'd nothin' pertickler to say:

The Visions Of Bellay

IT was the time, when rest soft sliding downe

From heauens hight into mens heauy eyes,

The Angel In The House. Book I. Canto I.

Preludes.

I The Impossibility

Genesis BK XVI

© Caedmon

(ll. 918-924) And unto Eve God spake in wrath: "Turn thee from
joy! Thou shalt live under man's dominion, sore smitten with
fear before him. With bitter sorrow shalt thou expiate thy sin,
waiting for death, bringing forth sons and daughters in the world
with grief and tears and lamentation."