Good poems
/ page 218 of 545 /Elegy Of Lincoln
© Joseph Furphy
Lincoln is gone who ruled the Western Land
From the Pacific to the Atlantic's brim
And cold and nerveless lies the mighty hand
That struck the fetters from the negro's limb.
The Word Quick And Powerful
© John Newton
The word of Christ, our Lord,
With whom we have to do;
Is sharper than a two-edged sword,
To pierce the sinner through.
I Stood Tip-Toe Upon A Little Hill
© John Keats
I stood tip-toe upon a little hill,
The air was cooling, and so very still,
That the sweet buds which with a modest pride
Pull droopingly, in slanting curve aside,
Quatrains Of Life
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
What has my youth been that I love it thus,
Sad youth, to all but one grown tedious,
Stale as the news which last week wearied us,
Or a tired actor's tale told to an empty house?
The Torrent
© Mathilde Blind
OH torrent, roaring in thy giant fall,
And thund'ring grandly o'er th' opposing blocks,
Sonnet 37: My Mouth Doth Water
© Sir Philip Sidney
My mouth doth water, and my breast doth swell,
My tongue doth itch, my thoughts in labor be:
Listen then, lordings, with good ear to me,
For of my life I must a riddle tell.
The Hares, A Fable.
© James Beattie
Mild was the morn, the sky serene,
The jolly hunting band convene,
The beagle's breast with ardour burns,
The bounding steed the champaign spurns,
And Fancy oft the game descries
Through the hound's nose, and huntsman's eyes.
His Stenographer
© Harriet Monroe
Does she love you?well, I wonder
Married twenty years, they say!
You, so bald and fat and funny,
Grubbing like a mole for money?
Guess she likes to spend the plunder
Geeshe knows the way!
The Dead Child
© Ernest Christopher Dowson
Sleep on, dear, now
The last sleep and the best,
And on thy brow,
And on thy quiet breast
Violets I throw.
When All Has Been Said And Done.
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
"Perhaps it will all come right at last;
It may be, when all is done,
We shall be together in some good world,
Where to wish and to have are one."
--STODDARD.
Indolence
© Robert Fuller Murray
Fain would I shake thee off, but weak am I
Thy strong solicitations to withstand.
Plenty of work lies ready to my hand,
Which rests irresolute, and lets it lie.
Don Juan: Canto The Fifth
© George Gordon Byron
When amatory poets sing their loves
In liquid lines mellifluously bland,
Discretion
© Edith Nesbit
AH, turn your pretty eyes away!
You would not have me love again?
Love's pleasure does not live a day,
Immortal is Love's pain,
And I am tired of pain.
The Sheperd Bwoy
© William Barnes
When the warm zummer breeze do blow over the hill,
An' the vlock's a-spread over the ground;