Great poems
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Pan Is Dead
© Ezra Pound
Pan is dead. Great Pan is dead.
Ah! bow your heads, ye maidens all,
And weave ye him his coronal.
The Spirit Of Navigation
© William Lisle Bowles
Stern Father of the storm! who dost abide
Amid the solitude of the vast deep,
From Vergil's Fourth Georgic
© Percy Bysshe Shelley
And the cloven waters like a chasm of mountains
Stood, and received him in its mighty portal
And led him through the deeps untrampled fountains
Piere Vidal Old
© Ezra Pound
When I but think upon the great dead days
And turn my mind upon that splendid madness,
Lo! I do curse my strength
And blame the sun his gladness;
For that the one is dead
And the red sun mocks my sadness.
Behold we come, dear Lord, to Thee;
© John Austin
Behold we come, dear Lord, to Thee;
And bow before thy Throne:
Book Eleventh: France [concluded]
© William Wordsworth
But indignation works where hope is not,
And thou, O Friend! wilt be refreshed. There is
One great society alone on earth:
The noble Living and the noble Dead.
At Eleusis
© Wilcox Ella Wheeler
I, at Eleusis, saw the finest sight,
When early morning's banners were unfurled.
From high Olympus, gazing on the world,
The ancient gods once saw it with delight.
Sunset On The Bearcamp
© John Greenleaf Whittier
A gold fringe on the purpling hem
Of hills the river runs,
As down its long, green valley falls
The last of summer's suns.
Phantasies
© Emma Lazarus
Rest, beauty, stillness: not a waif of a cloud
From gray-blue east sheer to the yellow west-
No film of mist the utmost slopes to shroud.
The Deserted House
© Alfred Tennyson
Life and Thought have gone away
Side by side,
Leaving door and windows wide.
Careless tenants they!
From "The Court Of Fancy"
© Thomas Godfrey
'T was sultry noon; impatient of the heat
I sought the covert of a close retreat:
One of the Has-beens
© Anonymous
Im one of the has-beens, a shearer I mean;
I once was a ringer and used to shear clean;
I could make the wool roll off like the soil from the plough,
But you may not believe me, because I cant do it now.
To A Baby Born Without Limbs
© Kingsley Amis
This is just to show you whose boss around here.
Itll keep you on your toes, so to speak,
Make you put your best foot forward, so to speak,
And give you something to turn your hand to, so to speak.
Earth's Secret
© George Meredith
Not solitarily in fields we find
Earth's secret open, though one page is there;
The Lady, the Knight, and the Friar
© Thomas Love Peacock
O cavalier! what dost thou here,
Thy tuneful vigils keeping;
While the northern star looks cold from far
And half the world is sleeping?
Humanity
© Charles Harpur
I dreamed I was a sculptor, and had wrought
Out of a towering adamantine crag
The Sparrow
© George MacDonald
O Lord, I cannot but believe
The birds do sing thy praises then, when they sing to one another,
And they are lying seed-sown land when the winter makes them grieve,
Their little bosoms breeding songs for the summer to unsmother!
