Good poems
/ page 145 of 545 /
Within and Without: Part I: A Dramatic Poem
© George MacDonald
Robert.
Head in your hands as usual! You will fret
Your life out, sitting moping in the dark.
Come, it is supper-time.
Herve Riel
© Robert Browning
On the sea and at the Hogue, sixteen hundred ninety two,
Did the English fight the French,--woe to France!
And, the thirty-first of May, helter-skelter thro' the blue.
Like a crowd of frightened porpoises a shoal of sharks pursue,
Came crowding ship on ship to St. Malo on the Rance,
With the English fleet in view.
What Smith Knew About Farming
© James Whitcomb Riley
There wasn't two purtier farms in the state
Than the couple of which I'm about to relate;--
Twelfth Sunday After Trinity
© John Keble
The Son of God in doing good
Was fain to look to Heaven and sigh:
A Christmas Song
© Alaric Alexander Watts
The present moment's all our own,
The next, who ever saw! ~ Mickle.
Written in Westminster Abbey
© Samuel Rogers
Whoe'er thou art, approach, and, with a sigh,
Mark where the small remains of Greatness lie.
There sleeps the dust of Him for ever gone;
How near the Scene where once his Glory shone!
Breitmann In Politics
© Charles Godfrey Leland
VHEN ash de var vas ober, und Beace her shnow-wice vings
Vas vafin' o'er de coondry (in shpodts) like efery dings
Und heroes vere revardtet, de beople all pegan
To say 'tvas shame dat nodings vas done for Breitemann.
Tirocinium; or, a Review of Schools
© William Cowper
It is not from his form, in which we trace
Strength join'd with beauty, dignity with grace,
As Many Stars
© Mathilde Blind
AS many stars as are aglow
Deep in the hollows of the night
As many as the flowers that blow
Beneath the kindling light;
Love And Beauty: III: To A Fair Woman, Unsatisfied With Woman's Work
© Sydney Thompson Dobell
If Beauty is a name for visible Love,
And Love for Beauty in the conscious soul,
The Mask Of Anarchy
© Percy Bysshe Shelley
I.
As I lay asleep in Italy
There came a voice from over the Sea,
And with great power it forth led me
To walk in the visions of Poesy.
Rosamund
© Jean Ingelow
I dwell where England narrows running north;
And while our hay was cut came rumours up
Humming and swarming round our heads like bees:
The Three Pilgrims
© Archibald Lampman
In days, when the fruit of men's labour was sparing,
And hearts were weary and nigh to break,
A sweet grave man with a beautiful bearing
Came to us once in the fields and spake.
An Anniversary
© Ada Cambridge
AS flower to sun its drop of dew
Gives from its crystal cup,
So I, as morning gift to you,
This poor verse offer up.
II.
