Good poems
/ page 184 of 545 /
The Stealing Of The Mare - V
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
Said the Narrator:
And when the maidens and Alia had made an end of their talking, and they had said to her, ``Fear not, we are with thee, and of nothing of our souls will we be niggardly for thy sake, and all that thou hast done that too would we have done; and one such as is this knight were more worthy our possessing than all else in the world, for he is without guile and without blemish;--then Alia, hearing this, her heart was quieted, and she arose full of joy, and bent down and kissed the hands of Abu Zeyd. And all the damsels in like manner kissed his hands. And they undid their veils before him to the right and to the left. And Alia bade them bring meats in dishes, and the damsels brought them. And the servants and they rejoiced and were glad together. And when their meal was ended they brought wine and drank of it, and made merry until night fell on them. And they sang psalms and canticles, and played on instruments of music, nor did they leave their merriment for twenty nights, so that Abu Zeyd forgot his people, and it was to him as to one who had been born among them, nor cared he for aught that should happen in the land of Helal. But on the twenty and first night he remembered where he was, and how he had come thither, and the story of the ancient dame who had sought him and the pledge he had given her to obtain for her that which she desired. And tears came to his eyes and flowed down upon his beard. And when Alia saw this she arose and asked him why he wept. And he said, ``I have been remembering my people, and those that are dear to me afar and the business that I came on.'' And she said, ``Wait only till it be dark.'' And he waited until the night came. And she arose and fetched the keys and delivered to him the mare. And she brought him change of raiment and a skin of dates and butter and bread. And she said, ``Take me also with thee with the mare, and leave me not to suffer blame.'' And she clung to his stirrup. But he swore an oath to her that he would return and protect her from her father. And she let go the stirrup. And in that guise he left her, and they were both weeping. And Alia turned from him with weeping eyes, and lamented grievously at their parting. And he went his way through the desert, while she remained in her sorrow. And she sat upon the ground with the daughters of the great ones, and they burst forth all in lamentations and tears.
Then singeth again the Narrator:
The Bagman's Dog: Mr. Peters's Story
© Richard Harris Barham
It was a litter, a litter of five,
Four are drown'd and one left alive,
He was thought worthy alone to survive;
And the Bagman resolved upon bringing him up,
To eat of his bread, and to drink of his cup,
He was such a dear little cock-tail'd pup.
Phi Beta Kappa Poem
© Bliss William Carman
Harvard, 1914
SIR, friends, and scholars, we are here to serve
A high occasion. Our New England wears
All her unrivalled beauty as of old;
From The Cuckoo And The Nightingale
© William Wordsworth
The God of Love-"ah, benedicite!"
How mighty and how great a Lord is he!
For he of low hearts can make high, of high
He can make low, and unto death bring nigh;
And hard-hearts he can make them kind and free.
Memorabilia
© Edgar Lee Masters
Old pioneers, how fare your souls to-day?
They seem to be
Imminent about this pastoral way,
This sunny lea,
"No Man Knoweth his Sepulchre"
© William Cullen Bryant
When he, who, from the scourge of wrong,
Aroused the Hebrew tribes to fly,
Saw the fair region, promised long,
And bowed him on the hills to die;
The Two Thieves; Or, The Last Stage Of Avarice
© William Wordsworth
O NOW that the genius of Bewick were mine,
And the skill which he learned on the banks of the Tyne.
Then the Muses might deal with me just as they chose,
For I'd take my last leave both of verse and of prose.
A Ballad Of Fair Ladies In Revolt
© George Meredith
See the sweet women, friend, that lean beneath
The ever-falling fountain of green leaves
Round the white bending stem, and like a wreath
Of our most blushful flower shine trembling through,
To teach philosophers the thirst of thieves:
Is one for me? is one for you?
The Right Sort
© William Henry Ogilvie
We have hustled that litter in Heatherlie Whin,
Two crouch in the bracken, two dodge in the corn,
St. Martin's Summer
© John Greenleaf Whittier
Though flowers have perished at the touch
Of Frost, the early comer,
I hail the season loved so much,
The good St. Martin's summer.
On Sr Charles Porter The Chancellours Death
© Thomas Parnell
& tis too true alass! we find, he's gonn,
Virtue from earth a second time is flown,
Hermann And Dorothea - VII. Erato
© Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
Joyfully heard the youth the willing maiden's decision,
Doubting whether he now had not better tell her the whole truth;
But it appear'd to him best to let her remain in her error,
First to take her home, and then for her love to entreat her.
Ah! but now he espied a golden ring on her finger,
And so let her speak, while he attentively listen'd:--
Litany for Dictatorships
© Stephen Vincent Benet
For all those beaten, for the broken heads,
The fosterless, the simple, the oppressed,
The ghosts in the burning city of our time ...
The Man Im For
© Edgar Albert Guest
I'M for the happy man every time,
The man who smiles as he goes his way,
The Heart Taken
© John Newton
The castle of the human heart
Strong in its native sin;
Is guarded well, in every part,
By him who dwells within.
The Farmer's Boy - Autumn
© Robert Bloomfield
Again, the year's _decline_, midst storms and floods,
The thund'ring chase, the yellow fading woods,
Invite my song; that fain would boldly tell
Of upland coverts, and the echoing dell,
By turns resounding loud, at eve and morn
The swineherd's halloo, or the huntsman's horn.
Incidents in the life of my Uncle Arly
© Edward Lear
O my aged Uncle Arly!
Sitting on a heap of Barley
Love Gustatory
© Franklin Pierce Adams
Myrtilla, I have seen you eat--
Have heard you drink, to be precise--
Your soup, and, notwithstanding, sweet,
The gurgitation wasn't nice,
I overlooked a tiny fault
Like that with just a grain of salt.
Old Mates
© David McKee Wright
. I came up to-night to the station, the tramp had been longish and cold,
My swag ain't too heavy to carry, but then I begin to get old.
I came through this way to the diggings - how long will that be ago now?
Thirty years! how the country has altered, and miles of it under the plough,
And Jack was my mate on the journey - we both run away from the sea;
He's got on in the world and I haven't, and now he looks sideways on me.
