Good poems
/ page 79 of 545 /The Land Of The Living
© Nicolaj Frederik Severin Grundtvig
I know of a land
Where hair does not grey, and where times rule is banned,
Where sun does not burn, and where wave does not ring,
Where autumn embraces the blossoming spring,
Where morning and evening unceasingly dance
In noons brightest glance.
The Merchant Of Venice: A Legend Of Italy
© Richard Harris Barham
With a pack,
Like a sack
Of old clothes at his back,
And three hats on his head, Shylock came in a crack,
Saying, 'Rest you fair, Signior Antonio!- vat, pray,
Might your vorship be pleashed for to vant in ma vay!'
Oglethorpe
© Madison Julius Cawein
An Ode to be read on the laying of the foundation
stone of the new Oglethorpe University,
Sonnet Cycle For Lady Magdalen
© John Donne
Her of your name, whose fair inheritance
Bethina was, and jointure Magdalo:
The Loadstone
© Francis Quarles
Eternal God! O Thou that only art
The sacred fountain of eternal light,
On Old Man's Thought Of School
© Walt Whitman
And these I see-these sparkling eyes,
These stores of mystic meaning-these young lives,
Building, equipping, like a fleet of ships-immortal ships!
Soon to sail out over the measureless seas,
On the Soul's voyage.
The Folk-Mote By The River
© William Morris
And now we saw the banners borne
On the first of the way that we had shorn;
So we laid the scythe upon the sward
And girt us to the battle-sword.
Snubbing (Tying-up) The Raft
© William Henry Drummond
Las' night dey 're passin', de golden plover,
Dis mornin' Im seein' de bluebird's wing,
So if not'ing go wrong, de winters over,
An' not very long till we got de spring.
To the Memory of my dear and ever honoured Father Thomas Dudley Esq; Who deceased, July 31. 1653. an
© Anne Bradstreet
By duty bound, and not by custome led
To celebrate the praises of the dead,
The Wonderful Aussie Waler
© Arthur Henry Adams
When Allenby's Army smashed the Turk
Who was the bloke who did all the work
The Aussie knows and he'll tell you straight
In Memoriam A. H. H.: 131
© Alfred Tennyson
O true and tried, so well and long,
Demand not thou a marriage lay;
In that it is thy marriage day
Is music more than any song.
To Lucasta Ode Lyrick
© Richard Lovelace
I.
Ah LUCASTA, why so bright?
Spread with early streaked light!
If still vailed from our sight,
What is't but eternall night?
The Wheel Routs
© William Barnes
'Tis true I brought noo fortune hwome
Wi' Jenny, vor her honey-moon,
But still a goodish hansel come
Behind her perty soon,
Vor stick, an' dish, an' spoon, all vell
To Jeäne, vrom Aunt o' Camwy dell.
The Oak And Its Branches.
© Mary Barber
An Oak, with spreading Branches crown'd,
Beheld an Ivy on the Ground,
Expos'd to ev'ry trampling Beast,
That roam'd around the dreary Waste.
The Judgment Of Paris
© James Beattie
Far in the depth of Ida's inmost grove,
A scene for love and solitude design'd;
Where flowery woodbines wild, by Nature wove,
Form'd the lone bower, the royal swain reclined.
Sonnet 66: "Tir'd with all these, for restful death I cry..."
© William Shakespeare
Tir'd with all these, for restful death I cry,
As, to behold desert a beggar born,