Great poems
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The Song Of Hiawatha XIV: Picture-Writing
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
In those days said Hiawatha,
"Lo! how all things fade and perish!
The Angel In The House. Book I. Canto IX.
© Coventry Kersey Dighton Patmore
IV Fool and Wise
Endow the fool with sun and moon,
Being his, he holds them mean and low;
But to the wise a little boon
Is great, because the giver's so.
Hunting Horns
© Guillaume Apollinaire
Our storys noble as its tragic
like the grimace of a tyrant
no dramas chance or magic
no detail thats indifferent
The Republic
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Thou, too, sail on, O Ship of State!
Sail on, O Union, strong and great!
January Morning
© William Carlos Williams
I have discovered that most of
the beauties of travel are due to
the strange hours we keep to see them:
Recreation
© Jane Taylor
At last the tea came up, and so,
With that, our tongues began to go.
Now, in that house, you're sure of knowing
The smallest scrap of news that's going ;
We find it there the wisest way
To take some care of what we say.
Thy Ship
© Wilcox Ella Wheeler
Hadst thou a ship, in whose vast hold lay stored
The priceless riches of all climes and lands,
At Evening Time There Shall Be Light
© Edith Nesbit
THE day was wild with wind and rain,
One grey wrapped sky and sea and shore,
Song of the Shingle-Splitters
© Henry Kendall
IN dark wild woods, where the lone owl broods
And the dingoes nightly yell
When We're All Alike
© Edgar Albert Guest
I've trudged life's highway up and down;
I've watched the lines of men march by;
Hot Afternoons Have Been in Montana
© Eli Siegel
Quiet and green was the grass of the field,
The sky was whole in brightness,
Portrait of my Father as a Young Man
© Rainer Maria Rilke
In the eyes: dream. The brow as if it could feel
something far off. Around the lips, a great
Poem
© Aldous Huxley
Books and a coloured skein of thoughts were mine;
And magic words lay ripening in my soul
Till their much-whispered music turned a wine
Whose subtlest power was all in my control.
Your Country Needs You
© Edgar Albert Guest
The country needs a man like you,
It has a task for you to do.
The Meadow
© Archibald Lampman
Here when the cloudless April days begin,
And the quaint crows flock thicker day by day,
Mirage
© Ada Cambridge
Is it a will-o'-the-wisp, or is dawn breaking,
That our horizon wears so strange a hue?
Is it but one more dream, or are we waking
To find that dreams, at last, are coming true?
From Anacreon
© George Gordon Byron
I wish to tune my quivering lyre
To deed of fame and notes of fire;
To echo, from its rising swell,
How heroes fought and nations fell,
