Good poems
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On A Bust Of General Grant
© James Russell Lowell
Strong, simple, silent are the [steadfast] laws
That sway this universe, of none withstood,
Raschi In Prague
© Emma Lazarus
Raschi of Troyes, the Moon of Israel,
The authoritative Talmudist, returned
Epilogue to Agamemnon
© James Thomson
Our bard, to modern epilogue a foe,
Thinks such mean mirth but deadens generous woe;
Dispels in idle air the moral sigh,
And wipes the tender tear from Pity's eye:
An Old Umbrella
© Christopher Pearse Cranch
AN old umbrella in the hall,
Battered and baggy, quaint and queer;
By all the rains of many a year
Bent, stained, and faded that is all.
Of The Nature Of Things: Book III - Part 04 - Folly Of The Fear Of Death
© Lucretius
Therefore death to us
Is nothing, nor concerns us in the least,
King Solomon and the Ants
© John Greenleaf Whittier
Out from Jerusalem
The king rode with his great
War chiefs and lords of state,
And Sheba's queen with them;
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.
The First Hymn Of Callimachus. To Jupiter
© Matthew Prior
While we to Jove select the holy victim
Whom apter shall we sing than Jove himself,
For The New Year
© Edith Nesbit
FLUSHED with a crimson sunrise beauty,
The fair new year its promise gave;
A Rejected Lover
© Dinah Maria Mulock Craik
You "never loved me," Ada. These slow words
Dropped softly from your gentle woman-tongue
Out of your true and kindly woman-heart,
Fell, piercing into mine like very swords
The Angel In The House. Book II. Canto VI.
© Coventry Kersey Dighton Patmore
Preludes.
I Love's Perversity
Amor Mysticus
© John Hay
Let them say to my Lover
That here I lie!
The thing of His pleasure,
His slave am I.
The Little Woman
© Edgar Albert Guest
The little woman, to her I bow
And doff my hat as I pass her by;
Esther, A Sonnet Sequence: XXXVIII
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
``I do not doubt it. You have a look of truth
Which is beyond suspicion. But the world
Is as full of knaves as fools. You have your youth
And I my wisdom. Then your head is curled
Virgidemarium (excerpt)
© Joseph Hall
With some pot-fury, ravish'd from their wit,
They sit and muse on some no-vulgar writ:
God-Speed to the Snow
© Archibald Lampman
March is slain; the keen winds fly;
Nothing more is thine to do;
