Good poems
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On A Great Hollow Tree
© William Strode
Preethee stand still awhile, and view this tree
Renown'd and honour'd for antiquitie
By all the neighbour twiggs; for such are all
The trees adjoyning, bee they nere so tall,
Son Of A Scoundrel
© Sheldon Allan Silverstein
Big Barney Fitch, he got soddenly rich
He got a big fancy house in Melbourne
With buckets of loot and big black leather boots
Acting so haughty and well-born
The Lay Of St. Odille
© Richard Harris Barham
Odille was a maid of a dignified race;
Her father, Count Otto, was lord of Alsace;
On Pitz Languard
© John Hay
I stood on the top of Pitz Languard,
And heard three voices whispering low,
Where the Alpine birds in their circling ward
Made swift dark shadows upon the snow.
Jacke-On-Both-Sides
© William Strode
I hold as fayth
What Rome's Church sayth
Where the King's head,
That flock's misled
The Swamp Fox
© William Gilmore Simms
What! 't is the signal! start so soon,
And through the Santee swamp so deep,
Without the aid of friendly moon,
And we, Heaven help us! half asleep!
Sonnet 40: As Good To Write
© Sir Philip Sidney
As good to write as for to lie and groan,
Oh Stella dear, how much thy power hath wrought,
That hast my mind, none of the basest, brought
My still-kept course, while others sleep, to moan.
Consolatorium, Ad Parentes
© William Strode
Lett her parents then confesse
That they beleeve her happinesse,
Which now they question. Thinke as you
Lent her the world, Heaven lent her you:
Anthem For Good Fryday
© William Strode
O let thy Death secure my soul from fears,
And I will wash thy wounds with brinish tears:
Grant me, sweet Jesu, from thy pretious store
One cleansing drop, with grace to sin no more.
An Epitaph On Sr John Walter, Lord Cheife Baron
© William Strode
Farewell Example, Living Rule farewell;
Whose practise shew'd goodness was possible,
Who reach'd the full outstretch'd perfection
Of Man, of Lawyer, and of Christian.
An Epitaph On Mr. Fishborne The Great London Benefactor, And His Executor
© William Strode
What are thy gaines, O death, if one man ly
Stretch'd in a bed of clay, whose charity
Doth hereby get occasion to redeeme
Thousands out of the grave: though cold hee seeme
The Legend of St. Mark
© John Greenleaf Whittier
The day is closing dark and cold,
With roaring blast and sleety showers;
And through the dusk the lilacs wear
The bloom of snow, instead of flowers.
A Paralell Between Bowling And Preferment
© William Strode
Preferment, like a Game at bowles,
To feede our hope with diverse play
Heer quick it runnes, there soft it rowles:
The Betters make and shew the way.
Upon My Dear and Loving Husband his Going into England Jan. 16
© Anne Bradstreet
O thou Most High who rulest all
And hear'st the prayers of thine,
O hearken, Lord, unto my suit
And my petition sign.
Upon a Fit of Sickness
© Anne Bradstreet
Twice ten years old not fully told
since nature gave me breath,
My race is run, my thread spun,
lo, here is fatal death.
On The Road
© Madison Julius Cawein
LET us bid the world good-by,
Now while sun and cloud's above us,
While we've nothing to deny,
Nothing but our selves to love us:
American Feuillage
© Walt Whitman
Whoever you are! how can I but offer you divine leaves, that you also
be eligible as I am?
How can I but, as here, chanting, invite you for yourself to collect
bouquets of the incomparable feuillage of These States?
The Four Ages of Man
© Anne Bradstreet
1.1 Lo now! four other acts upon the stage,
1.2 Childhood, and Youth, the Manly, and Old-age.
1.3 The first: son unto Phlegm, grand-child to water,
1.4 Unstable, supple, moist, and cold's his Nature.
Of the Four Ages of Man
© Anne Bradstreet
Lo, now four other act upon the stage,
Childhood and Youth, the Many and Old age:
The first son unto phlegm, grandchild to water,
Unstable, supple, cold and moist's his nature
In Reference to Her Children
© Anne Bradstreet
I had eight birds hatched in one nest,
Four cocks there were, and hens the rest.
I nursed them up with pain and care,
Nor cost, nor labour did I spare,
