Good poems
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Beachy Head
© Charlotte Turner Smith
ON thy stupendous summit, rock sublime !
That o'er the channel rear'd, half way at sea
Instability of Human Greatness
© Phineas Fletcher
Fond man, that looks on earth for happiness,
And here long seeks what here is never found!
Walking Around
© Pablo Neruda
It so happens I am sick of being a man.
And it happens that I walk into tailorshops and movie
houses
dried up, waterproof, like a swan made of felt
steering my way in a water of wombs and ashes.
The Fable Of Midas
© Jonathan Swift
Midas, we are in story told,
Turn'd every thing he touch'd to gold:
He chipp'd his bread; the pieces round
Glitter'd like spangles on the ground:
III. O Thou, whose stern command and precepts pure...
© William Lisle Bowles
O THOU, whose stern command and precepts pure
(Tho' agony in every vein should start,
And slowly drain the blood-drops from the heart)
Have bade the patient spirit still endure;
The Seeking Of Content
© Dora Sigerson Shorter
Sweet Content, at the rich man's gate,
Called, "Wilt thou let me in?"
Languid, And Sad, And Slow, From Day To Day
© William Lisle Bowles
Languid, and sad, and slow, from day to day
I journey on, yet pensive turn to view
(Where the rich landscape gleams with softer hue)
The streams and vales, and hills, that steal away.
Vision Of Columbus - Book 1
© Joel Barlow
Oh, lend thy friendly shroud to veil my sight,
That these pain'd eyes may dread no more the light,
These welcome shades conclude my instant doom,
And this drear mansion moulder to a tomb
The Bride.
© Robert Crawford
Her bridal dawn! her heart was fed
Last night with eerie food,
As, one by one, her lovers dead
Came in the solitude,
Sonnet: Languid, And Sad, And Slow, From Day To Day
© William Lisle Bowles
Languid, and sad, and slow, from day to day
I journey on, yet pensive turn to view
(Where the rich landscape gleams with softer hue)
The streams and vales, and hills, that steal away.
Our House
© Edgar Albert Guest
WE play at our house and have all sorts of fun,
An' there's always a game when supper is done;
An' at our house there's marks on the walls an' the stairs,
An' some terrible scratches on some of the chairs;
An' ma says that our house is surely a fright,
But pa and I say that our house is all right.
A Novelty
© Gilbert Keith Chesterton
Why should I care for the Ages
Because they are old and grey?
To me, like sudden laughter,
The stars are fresh and gay;
The world is a daring fancy,
And finished yesterday.
To The Lady Magdalen Herbert, Of St. Mary Magdalen
© John Donne
HER of your name, whose fair inheritance
Bethina was, and jointure Magdalo,
Memorials Of A Tour In Scotland, 1803
© William Wordsworth
Now we are tired of boisterous joy,
Have romped enough, my little Boy!
Jane hangs her head upon my breast,
And you shall bring your stool and rest;
This corner is your own.
On Salathiel Pavy
© Benjamin Jonson
A child of Queen Elizabeth's Chapel
Epitaphs: ii WEEP with me, all you that read
This little story;
And know, for whom a tear you shed
The Triumph
© Benjamin Jonson
SEE the Chariot at hand here of Love,
Wherein my Lady rideth!
Each that draws is a swan or a dove,
And well the car Love guideth.
Ode to Himself upon the Censure of his New Inn
© Benjamin Jonson
Come, leave the loathed stage,
And the more loathsome age;
Where pride and impudence, in faction knit,
Usurp the chair of wit!
The Cab Lamps
© Henry Lawson
THE CRESCENT MOON and clock tower are fair above the wall
Across the smothered lanes of Loo, the stifled vice and all,
And in the shadow yonderlike cats that wait for scraps
The crowding cabs seem waitingfor you and me, perhaps.
A Part of an Ode
© Benjamin Jonson
to the Immortal Memory and Friendship of that noble pair, Sir Lucius Cary and Sir H. Morison IT is not growing like a tree
In bulk, doth make man better be;
Or standing long an oak, three hundred year,
To fall a log at last, dry, bald, and sere:
The Missionary - Canto Third
© William Lisle Bowles
Come,--for the sun yet hangs above the bay,--
And whilst our time may brook a brief delay
