Good poems
/ page 51 of 545 /A Letter From Peking
© Harriet Monroe
October I5th, 1910.
My friend, dear friend, why should I hear your voice
Friendship
© John Crowe Ransom
And not a perfume spills upon the air
But his malicious nose suspects a poison,
As he goes browsing like an ancient ass,
An old distempered ass.
The Siege Of Corinth
© George Gordon Byron
XXVII.
Still the old man stood erect,
And Alp's career a moment check'd.
"Yield thee, Minotti; quarter take,
For thine own, thy daughter's sake."
The Doer Of Good
© Oscar Wilde
And when He came near He heard within the city the tread of the
feet of joy, and the laughter of the mouth of gladness and the loud
noise of many lutes. And He knocked at the gate and certain of the
gate-keepers opened to Him.
Charity : A Paraphrase On 1 Cor. Chap. 13
© Matthew Prior
Did sweeter Sounds adorn my flowing Tongue,
Than ever Man pronounc'd, or Angel sung:
At Parting
© Madison Julius Cawein
What is there left for us to say,
Now it has come to say good-by?
And all our dreams of yesterday
Have vanished in the sunset sky--
What is there left for us to say,
Now different ways before us lie?
The House of Peers
© William Schwenck Gilbert
When Britain really ruled the waves -
(In good Queen Bess's time)
An Irish Mother
© William Percy French
Great wages men is givin'
In the land beyant the say,
But 'tis lonely lonely livin'
Whin the childher is away.
When The Green Gits Back In The Trees
© James Whitcomb Riley
In spring, when the green gits back in the trees,
And the sun comes out and stays,
At The Gate
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
Within, what new life waits me! Little ease,
Cold lying, hunger, nights of wakefulness,
Harsh orders given, no voice to soothe or please,
Poor thieves for friends, for books rules meaningless;
This is the grave--nay, Hell. Yet, Lord of Might,
Still in Thy light my spirit shall see light.
The Olde, Olde, very Olde Man; or The Age and Long Life of Thomas Parr
© John Taylor
Good wholesome labour was his exercise,
Down with the lamb, and with the lark would rise:
In mire and toiling sweat he spent the day,
And to his team he whistled time away:
Ode: To be performed by Dr. Brettle, and a chorus of Halesowen citizens
© William Shenstone
Awake! I say, awake, good people!
And be for once alive and gay;
Come, let's be merry; stir the tipple;
How can you sleep?
Whilst I do play? How can you sleep? &c.
Biography
© John Masefield
Yet when I am dust my penman may not know
Those water-trampling ships which made me glow,
But think my wonder mad and fail to find,
Their glory, even dimly, from my mind,
And yet they made me:
Lebid
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
Gone are they the lost camps, light flittings, long sojournings
in Miná, in Gháula, Rijám left how desolate.
Lost are they. Rayyán lies lorn with its white torrent beds,
scored in lines like writings left by the flood--water.
On King William's Happy Deliverance from the Intended Assassination
© Charles Sackville
The youth whose fortune the vast globe obey'd,
Finding his royal enemy betray'd
Fragments - Lines 0019 - 0030
© Theognis of Megara
Kyrnos, as I work my craft let a seal be set upon
These words of mine, and they will never be stolen unremarked,
The Legend Of The Crossbill. (From The German Of Julius Mosen)
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
On the cross the dying Saviour
Heavenward lifts his eyelids calm,
Feels, but scarcely feels, a trembling
In his pierced and bleeding palm.
The Preface of L. Blundeston
© Barnabe Googe
The Senses dull of my appalled muse
Foreweryed with the trauayle of my brayne
A Parting
© Edith Nesbit
So good-bye!
This is where we end it, you and I.
Life's to live, you know, and death's to die;
So good-bye!