Good poems
/ page 219 of 545 /Sonnet XX. To The Countess Od A----
© Charlotte Turner Smith
Written on the anniversary of her marriage.
ON this blest day may no dark cloud, or shower,
With envious shade the Sun's bright influence hide!
But all his rays illume the favour'd hour,
Two Hundred Years Ago
© William Henry Drummond
But He watch dem, le bon Dieu, for He's got
some work to do,
An He won't trus' ev'ry body, no siree!
Only full blood Canadien, lak Marquette an'
Hennepin,
An' w'at you t'ink of Louis Verandrye?
A Song Of Trafalgar
© Edith Nesbit
LIKE an angry sun, like a splendid star,
War gleams down the long years' track;
I Am Going To Sleep (Suicide Poem)
© Alfonsina Storni
Teeth of flowers, hairnet of dew,
hands of herbs, you, perfect wet nurse,
prepare the earthly sheets for me
and the down quilt of weeded moss.
At The Fall Of An Age
© Robinson Jeffers
(The story of Achilles rising from the dead for love of Helen
is well enough known. That of Polyxo's vengeance may be less
The Lord of the Isles: Canto IV.
© Sir Walter Scott
I.
Stranger! if e'er thine ardent step hath traced
A Parson's Letter To A Young Poet
© Jean Ingelow
They said: "We, rich by him, are rich by more;
One Aeschylus found watchfires on a hill
That lit Old Night's three daughters to their work;
When the forlorn Fate leaned to their red light
And sat a-spinning, to her feet he came
And marked her till she span off all her thread.
Breitmann In Belgium. Spa.
© Charles Godfrey Leland
VHEN sommer drees shake fort deir leafs,
Ash maids shake out deir locks,
Und singen mit de rifulets,
Vitch ripplen round de rocks,
The Old Swimmer
© Christopher Morley
I OFTEN wander on the beach
Where once, so brown of limb,
The biting air, the roaring surf
Summoned me to swim.
The Last Tournament
© Alfred Tennyson
To whom the King, `Peace to thine eagle-borne
Dead nestling, and this honour after death,
Following thy will! but, O my Queen, I muse
Why ye not wear on arm, or neck, or zone
Those diamonds that I rescued from the tarn,
And Lancelot won, methought, for thee to wear.'
Marmion: Introduction to Canto VI.
© Sir Walter Scott
Heap on more wood! the wind is chill;
But let it whistle as it will,
The Little HandMaiden
© Archibald Lampman
The King's son walks in the garden fair-
Oh, the maiden's heart is merry!
He little knows for his toil and care,
That the bride is gone and the bower is bare.
Put on garments of white, my maidens!
The Death Of President Lincoln
© Joseph Furphy
Now let the howling tempest roar
For Booth can feel its force no more;
Now let the captors bend their steel
Against the form that cannot feel
Their tyranny has spent its hour
And Booth is far beyond their power.
In Memory Of Douglas Vernon Cow
© Muriel Stuart
To twilight heads comes Death as comes a friend.
As with the gentle fading of the year
Fades rose, folds leaf, falls fruit, and to their end
Unquestioning draw near,
Their flowering over, and their fruiting done,
Fulfilled and finished and going down with the sun.
Thoughts In Separation
© Alice Meynell
We never meet; yet we meet day by day
Upon those hills of life, dim and immense:
The good we love, and sleep--our innocence.
O hills of life, high hills! And higher than they,
Voxpopuli
© Sydney Thompson Dobell
What if the Turk be foul or fair? Is't known
That the sublime Samaritan of old
Hymn XVIII: Father, Saviour of Mankind
© Charles Wesley
Father, Saviour of mankind,
Who hast on me bestowed