Great poems
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The Ladle. A Tale
© Matthew Prior
Our gods the outward gates unbarr'd;
Our farmer met 'em in the yard;
Thought they were folks that lost their way,
And ask'd them civilly to stay;
Told 'em for supper or for bed
They might go on and be worse sped. -
The Ballad Of The Little Black Hound
© Dora Sigerson Shorter
Who knocks at the Geraldine's door to-night
In the black storm and the rain?
Frost
© Madison Julius Cawein
White artist he, who, breezeless nights,
From tingling stars jocosely whirls,
A harlequin in spangled tights,
His wand a pot of pounded pearls.
I Told You So
© Wilcox Ella Wheeler
I know a little fellow, his name I think is Jo,
But he is seldom called by that-he has a queer nick-name,
Wherever he goes the children cry, "There comes 'I-told-you-so.'"
For that is what he always says in playing any game,
"I told you so! I told you so!
You see I was right when I told you so."
Courage
© Wilcox Ella Wheeler
There is a courage, a majestic thing
That springs forth from the brow of pain, full-grown,
Minerva-like, and dares all dangers known,
And all the threatening future yet may bring;
Mr. Francis Beaumont's Letter to Ben Jonson
© Francis Beaumont
The sun, which doth the greatest comfort bring
To absent friends (because the self-same thing
The Wreck of the Whaler 'Oscar'
© William Topaz McGonagall
'Twas on the 1st of April, and in the year of Eighteen thirteen,
That the whaler "Oscar" was wrecked not far from Aberdeen;
'Twas all on a sudden the wind arose, and a terrific blast it blew,
And the "Oscar" was lost, and forty-two of a gallant crew.
The Aeneid of Virgil: Book 2
© Publius Vergilius Maro
ALL were attentive to the godlike man,
When from his lofty couch he thus began:
Good Friday
© Christina Georgina Rossetti
Am I a stone and not a sheep
That I can stand, O Christ, beneath Thy Cross,
To number drop by drop Thy Blood's slow loss,
And yet not weep?
The Blue Heron
© Bliss William Carman
I SEE the great blue heron
Rising among the reeds
And floating down the wind,
Like a gliding sail
The Centennial Cantata.
© Sidney Lanier
Mayflower, Mayflower, slowly hither flying,
Trembling westward o'er yon balking sea,
Hearts within `Farewell dear England' sighing,
Winds without `But dear in vain' replying,
Gray-lipp'd waves about thee shouted, crying
"No! It shall not be!"
St. Mark's Day
© John Keble
Oh! who shall dare in this frail scene
On holiest happiest thoughts to lean,
On Friendship, Kindred, or on Love?
Since not Apostles' hands can clasp
Each other in so firm a grasp
But they shall change and variance prove.
A Dead Friend
© Norman Rowland Gale
IT hardly seems that he is dead,
So strange it is that we are here
Canticle Of The Shining Ones
© Giordano Bruno
"Nothing I envy, Jove, from this thy sky,"
Spake Neptune thus, and raised his lofty crest.
"God of the waves," said Jove, "thy pride runs high;
What more wouldst add to own thy stern behest?"
My Job
© Edgar Albert Guest
I wonder where's a better job than buying cake and meat,
And chocolate drops and sugar buns for little folks to eat?
And who has every day to face a finer round of care
Than buying frills and furbelows for little folks to wear?
In Snow-Time
© Duncan Campbell Scott
But here a peace deeper than peace is furled,
Enshrined and chaliced from the changeful hour;
The snow is still, yet lives in its own light.
Here is the peace which brooded day and night,
Before the heart of man with its wild power
Had ever spurned or trampled the great world.
Raising The Dead
© John Kenyon
We all have heard, and marvelled as we heard,
Of seers, who have raised the Dead from out their tombs,
