Good poems
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The Unknown Beloved
© John Hall Wheelock
I dreamed I passed a doorway
Where, for a sign of death,
White ribbons one was binding
About a flowery wreath.
The Vision
© Katharine Tynan
An average man was Private Flynn,
Good stuff for soldiering, no doubt;
Troublesome when the drink was in,
A quiet lad when it was out.
Satan Absolved
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
Angels. And we would know God's plan,
His true thought for the world, the wherefore and the why
Of His long patience mocked, His name in jeopardy.
We have no heart to serve without instructions new.
On Ye Bishop Of Meaths Death
© Thomas Parnell
Mourn widdowd Iland, Mourn, your Pan is dead.
Mourn ye unhappy flocks your Sheapherd Pan is fled;
The Shepherd's Calendar - June
© John Clare
Now summer is in flower and natures hum
Is never silent round her sultry bloom
Red Riding Hood
© John Greenleaf Whittier
On the wide lawn the snow lay deep,
Ridged oer with many a drifted heap;
Panegyric To Sir Lewis Pemberton
© Robert Herrick
Till I shall come again, let this suffice,
I send my salt, my sacrifice
A Song Of England
© Alfred Noyes
There is a song of England that none shall ever sing;
So sweet it is and fleet it is
Sweet Meat Has Sour Sauce; Or, The Slave-Trader In The Dumps
© William Cowper
Tis a curious assortment of dainty regales,
To tickle the Negroes with when the ship sails,
Fine chains for the neck, and a cat with nine tails,
Which nobody, &c.
The Landmarks
© John Greenleaf Whittier
I.
THROUGH the streets of Marblehead
Fast the red-winged terror sped;
In War-Time: An Aspiration Of The Spirit
© Sydney Thompson Dobell
Lord Jesus, as a little child,
Upon some high ascension day
When a great people goes to pay
Allegiance, and the tumult wild
Fragment. "It was the harvest time: the broad, bright moon"
© Frances Anne Kemble
It was the harvest time: the broad, bright moon
Was at her full, and shone upon the fields
To The Right Honourable The Earl Of Thomond, At Bath
© Mary Barber
Great Boiroimke! look down and see
This Change in thy Posterity;
Who quit all Titles to thy Throne,
But Hospitality alone.
The Beggar's Opera (excerpts)
© John Gay
Air I.An old woman clothed in gray, &c.1-
Through all the employments of life
English Eclogues II - The Grandmother's Tale
© Robert Southey
JANE.
Harry! I'm tired of playing. We'll draw round
The fire, and Grandmamma perhaps will tell us
One of her stories.
The Prophecy Of Famine
© Charles Churchill
Still have I known thee for a silly swain;
Of things past help, what boots it to complain?
Nothing but mirth can conquer fortune's spite;
No sky is heavy, if the heart be light:
Patience is sorrow's salve: what can't be cured,
So Donald right areads, must be endured.
Are Ye Right, There, Michael?
© William Percy French
Are ye right there, Michael, are ye right?
Do you think that we'll be there before the night?
Ye've been so long in startin',
That ye couldn't say for startin'
Still ye might now, Michael,
So ye might!
To the Right Honourable William, Earl of Dartmouth
© Phillis Wheatley
Hail, happy day, when, smiling like the morn,
Fair Freedom rose New-England to adorn:
The War Budget
© Jessie Pope
To foot the bill it's only fair
That everyone should do their share,
And since we all are served the same,
Pay and look pleasant that's the game.
