Great poems

/ page 149 of 549 /

Order by :

1
. . .
144
145
146
147
148
149
150
151
152
153
154
. . .
549

Pax Britannica

© Alfred Austin

Behind her rolling ramparts England lay,
Impregnable, and girt by cliff-built towers,
Weaving to peace and plenty, day by day,
The long-drawn hours.

A revelation came on Jane,
The widow of a labouring swain:
And first her body trembled sharp,
Then all the woman was a harp
With winds along the strings; she heard,
Though there was neither tone nor word.

A Summer Mood

© Paul Hamilton Hayne

AH, me! for evermore, for evermore
These human hearts of ours must yearn and sigh,
While down the dells and up the murmurous shore
Nature renews her immortality.

In The Marble Quarry

© James Dickey

Beginning to dangle beneath
The wind that blows from the undermined wood,
I feel the great pulley grind,

Snow in Europe

© David Gascoyne

Out of their slumber Europeans spun
Dense dreams: appeasements, miracle, glimpsed flash
Of a new golden era; but could not restrain
The vertical white weight that fell last night
And made their continent a blank.

A Story Of Doom: Book IV.

© Jean Ingelow

Now while these evil ones took counsel strange,

The son of Lamech journeyed home; and, lo!

The Brothers

© Madison Julius Cawein

Not far from here, it lies beyond
That low-hilled belt of woods. We'll take
This unused lane where brambles make
A wall of twilight, and the blond
Brier-roses pelt the path and flake
The margin waters of a pond.

The Tower Beyond Tragedy

© Robinson Jeffers

I

You'd never have thought the Queen was Helen's sister- Troy's

Dead Selves

© James Whitcomb Riley

How many of my selves are dead?

The ghosts of many haunt me: Lo,

Celia To Damon

© Matthew Prior

What can I say? What Arguments can prove
My Truth? What Colors can describe my Love?
If it's Excess and Fury be not known,
In what Thy Celia has already done?

The Shattered Dream

© Edgar Albert Guest

I WAS somewhere off in Europe spending money like a king,
Owned a yacht like J. P. Morgan's, when the 'phone began to ring;
I was entertaining princes, dukes and earls, when wifie said:
"It's the telephone that's ringing, you must hustle out of bed."
And I wandered down the stairway, grumbling o'er my vanished joy,
Growled: "Hello;" and then he shouted: "You're an uncle! It's a boy!"

Storm

© Wilfred Owen

His face was charged with beauty as a cloud
With glimmering lightning. When it shadowed me
I shook, and was uneasy as a tree
That draws the brilliant danger, tremulous, bowed.

The Souls Mutiny

© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt

I saw a galley passing to the West,
Its silken sails aglow as if with blood,
When the red sun dropped down into his nest,
And hurled his level spears across the flood.

Two Minds

© Sara Teasdale

Your mind and mine are such great lovers they

Have freed themselves from cautious human clay,

A Thanksgiving For F. D. Maurice

The veil hath lifted and hath fallen; and him
Who next it stood before us, first so long,
We see not; but between the cherubim
The light burns clearer: come-a thankful song!

The Death And Dying Words Of Poor Mailie

© Robert Burns

Wi' glowrin een, and lifted han's
Poor Hughoc like a statue stan's;
He saw her days were near-hand ended,
But, wae's my heart! he could na mend it!
He gaped wide, but naething spak,
At length poor Mailie silence brak.