Great poems
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The Rosy Bosomd Hours
© Coventry Kersey Dighton Patmore
A florin to the willing Guard
Secured, for half the way,
Juliet's Soliloquy
© William Shakespeare
Farewell!--God knows when we shall meet again.
I have a faint cold fear thrills through my veins
St. Yves Poor
© Marjorie Lowry Christie Pickthall
Thy dead are sheltered; housed and warmed they wait
Under the golden fern, the falling foam;
But these, Thy living, wander desolate
And have not any home.
Fit The Seventh - The Banker's Fate
© Lewis Carroll
But while he was seeking with thimbles and care,
A Bandersnatch swiftly drew nigh
And grabbed at the Banker, who shrieked in despair,
For he knew it was useless to fly.
Colour
© Dorothea Mackellar
The lovely things that I have watched unthinking,
Unknowing, day by day,
That their soft dyes have steeped my soul in colour
That will not pass away -
Against Urania
© Francis Thompson
Lo I, Song's most true lover, plain me sore
That worse than other women she can deceive,
The Little Left Hand - Act III
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
Interior of a Church--Davis, Bradshaw, and others.
Davis. The sword of the Lord and the sword of Gideon!
It was good To see the red--coats run before our multitude.
We broke them by sheer numbers--
On The Death Of Mr. Fox
© George Gordon Byron
THE FOLLOWING ILLIBERAL IMPROMPTU APPEARED IN A MORNING PAPER:
'Our nation's foes lament on Fox's death,
But bless the hour when PITT resign'd his breath:
These feelings wide, let sense and truth unclue,
We give the palm where Justice points its due.'
The Wail Of The Waiter
© Marcus Clarke
All day long, at Scott's or Menzies', I await the gorging crowd,
Panting, penned within a pantry, with the blowflies humming loud,
The Wanderer
© Madison Julius Cawein
Between the death of day and birth of night,
By War's red light,
Merlin And Vivien
© Alfred Tennyson
A storm was coming, but the winds were still,
And in the wild woods of Broceliande,
Before an oak, so hollow, huge and old
It looked a tower of ivied masonwork,
At Merlin's feet the wily Vivien lay.
The School-Boy
© Oliver Wendell Holmes
So ran my lines, as pen and paper met,
The truant goose-quill travelling like Planchette;
Too ready servant, whose deceitful ways
Full many a slipshod line, alas! betrays;
Hence of the rhyming thousand not a few
Have builded worse--a great deal--than they knew.
The Rune-Master
© Padraic Colum
On an old thorn-tree
By an ancient rath
You heard him sing,
And with runes you charmed him
Till he stayed with you,
Giving clear song.
Dante. (Sonnet VII.)
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
What should be said of him cannot be said;
By too great splendor is his name attended;
Ode To Apollo
© John Keats
3.
Then, through thy Temple wide, melodious swells
The sweet majestic tone of Maro's lyre:
The soul delighted on each accent dwells,--
Enraptur'd dwells,--not daring to respire,
The while he tells of grief around a funeral pyre.
Ophelia
© Arthur Rimbaud
On the calm black water where the stars are sleeping
White Ophelia floats like a great lily ;
Floats very slowly, lying in her long veils…
- In the far-off woods you can hear them sound the mort.
