Good poems
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Bellman's Verses For 1814
© James Henry Leigh Hunt
Huzza, my boys! our friends the Dutch have risen,
Our good old friends, and burst the Tyrant's prison!
Twenty-Third Sunday After Trinity
© John Keble
Red o'er the forest peers the setting sun,
The line of yellow light dies fast away
That crowned the eastern copse: and chill and dun
Falls on the moor the brief November day.
To Mother
© Marina Tsvetaeva
In the old Strauss waltz for the first time
We had listened to your quiet call,
Since then all the living things are alien
And the knocking of the clock consoles.
The Trance of Time
© John Henry Newman
"Felix, qui potuit rerum cognoscere causas,
Atque metus omnes, et inexorabile fatum
Subjecit pedibus, strepitumque Acherontis avari!"
The Passing Of The Primroses
© Alfred Austin
Primroses
Nay, rather, why should we longer stay?
We are not needed, now stooping showers
Have sandalled the feet of May with flowers.
The Hands of the Betrothed
© David Herbert Lawrence
Her tawny eyes are onyx of thoughtlessness,
Hardened they are like gems in ancient modesty;
Yea, and her mouths prudent and crude caress
Means even less than her many words to me.
The Borough. Letter VII: Professions--Physic
© George Crabbe
power;"
"I fear to die;"--"Let not your spirits sink,
You're always safe, while you believe and drink."
How strange to add, in this nefarious trade,
That men of parts are dupes by dunces made:
That creatures, nature meant should clean our
The Virgin Mother
© David Herbert Lawrence
My little love, my darling,
You were a doorway to me;
You let me out of the confines
Into this strange countrie,
Where people are crowded like thistles,
Yet are shapely and comely to see.
The Happiest Land. (From The German)
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
There sat one day in quiet,
By an alehouse on the Rhine,
Four hale and hearty fellows,
And drank the precious wine.
Scent of Irises
© David Herbert Lawrence
A faint, sickening scent of irises
Persists all morning. Here in a jar on the table
A fine proud spike of purple irises
Rising above the class-room litter, makes me unable
To see the classs lifted and bended faces
Save in a broken pattern, amid purple and gold and sable.
Restlessness
© David Herbert Lawrence
At the open door of the room I stand and look at the night,
Hold my hand to catch the raindrops, that slant into sight,
Arriving grey from the darkness above suddenly into the light of the room.
I will escape from the hollow room, the box of light,
And be out in the bewildering darkness, which is always fecund, which might
Mate my hungry soul with a germ of its womb.
The Artist
© William Henry Ogilvie
He stands at no easel, he mixes no paint,
He colours no canvas to gladden the eye,
The Wild Common
© David Herbert Lawrence
The quick sparks on the gorse bushes are leaping,
Little jets of sunlight-texture imitating flame;
Above them, exultant, the peewits are sweeping:
They are lords of the desolate wastes of sadness their screamings proclaim.
When I Was Small
© Jens Baggesen
There was a time when I was very small
A mere two feet was all I measured then;
And, when I think of this, tears sweetly fall,
So of it I think time and time again.
Some Advice To Those Who Will Serve Time In Prison
© Nazim Hikmet
If instead of being hanged by the neck
you're thrown inside
The Palm-Tree
© John Greenleaf Whittier
Is it the palm, the cocoa-palm,
On the Indian Sea, by the isles of balm?
Or is it a ship in the breezeless calm?
Cruelty and Love
© David Herbert Lawrence
What large, dark hands are those at the window
Lifted, grasping in the yellow light
Which makes its way through the curtain web
At my heart to-night?
After Many Days
© David Herbert Lawrence
I WONDER if with you, as it is with me,
If under your slipping words, that easily flow
About you as a garment, easily,
Your violent heart beats to and fro!
