Good poems
/ page 87 of 545 /
A Naughty Little Comet
© Wilcox Ella Wheeler
The mother of the comet was a very good old star;
She used to scold her reckless child for venturing out too far.
Pharsalia - Book IV: Caesar In Spain. War In The Adriatic Sea. Death Of Curio.
© Marcus Annaeus Lucanus
Should mix with ours, the vanquished. Destiny
Has run for us its course: one boon I beg;
Bid not the conquered conquer in thy train."
The Eld
© Richard Monckton Milnes
Oh! blessèd, blessèd be the Eld,
Its echoes and its shades,--
The tones that from all time outswelled,
The light that never fades;--
Laodicea
© John Newton
Hear what the Lord, the great Amen,
The true and faithful Witness says!
He formed the vast creation's plan,
And searches all our hearts and ways.
The Princes' Quest - Part the Second
© William Watson
A fearful and a lovely thing is Sleep,
And mighty store of secrets hath in keep;
Deeds
© Archibald Lampman
'Tis well with words, oh masters, ye have sought,
To turn men's eyes yearning to the great and true,
Ambrose
© James Russell Lowell
Never, surely, was holier man
Than Ambrose, since the world began;
With diet spare and raiment thin
He shielded himself from the father of sin;
With bed of iron and scourgings oft,
His heart to God's hand as wax made soft.
A Phylactery
© John Hay
Wise men I hold those rakes of old
Who, as we read in antique story,
When lyres were struck and wine was poured,
Set the white Death's Head on the board--
Memento mori.
To ---, Written At Venice
© Richard Monckton Milnes
Not only through the golden haze
Of indistinct surprise,
With which the Ocean--bride displays
Her pomp to stranger eyes;--
She Walks In Beauty
© George Gordon Byron
She walks in Beauty, like the night
Of cloudless climes and starry skies;
And all that's best of dark and bright
Meet in her aspect and her eyes:
Thus mellowed to that tender light
Which Heaven to gaudy day denies.
An Ode To The King, At His Returning From Scotland To The Queen, After His Coronation There
© Sir Henry Wotton
Rouse up thy self, my gentle Muse,
Though now our green conceits be gray,
And yet once more do not refuse
To take thy Phrygian Harp, and play
In honour of this chearful Day.
Striking
© Charles Stuart Calverley
It was a railway passenger,
And he lept out jauntilie.
"Now up and bear, thou stout porter,
My two chattels to me.
The Singing Of The Magnificat
© Edith Nesbit
IN midst of wide green pasture-lands, cut through
By lines of alders bordering deep-banked streams,
Where bulrushes and yellow iris grew,
And rest and peace, and all the flowers of dreams,
The Abbey stood--so still, it seemed a part
Of the marsh-country's almost pulseless heart.
The Age of Wisdom
© William Makepeace Thackeray
Ho! pretty page, with the dimpled chin,
That never has known the Barber's shear,
All your wish is woman to win;
This is the way that boys begin-
Wait till you come to Forty Year.
