Great poems

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The Churchwarden and The Apparition: A Fable

© Thomas Chatterton

The night was cold, the wind was high,

And stars bespangled all the sky;

Forever

© Charles Stuart Calverley

"Forever": 'tis a single word!
Our rude forefathers deemed it two:
Can you imagine so absurd
A view?

Bande Mataram

© Sri Aurobindo

Mother, I bow to thee!
Rich with thy hurrying streams,
Bright with thy orchard gleams,
Cool with thy winds of delight,
Dark fields waving, Mother of might,
Mother free.

See across the early snow, far across the plain,
Where the clouds are grey and low and winter comes again;
By the sand-dune and the marshand forest black and dumb
As dusky white as their winters night, the Russian wolf-hounds come!
(Silence for a while.)

In an Almshouse

© Augusta Davies Webster

They said you were not pretty, owed your charm
to choice of ribbons from your father's shop,
but, as for me, I saw not if you wore
too many ribbons or too few, nor sought
what charms you had beyond that one I knew,
the kind and honest look in your grey eyes.

Night Litany

© Ezra Pound

Yea the lines hast thou laid unto me
in pleasant places,
And the beauty of this thy Venice
hast thou shown unto me
Until is its loveliness become unto me
a thing of tears.

Hymn XXXII. Lord, now the time returns,

© John Austin

Lord, now the time returns,

For weary man to rest;

To You.

© Arthur Henry Adams

SO you have come at last!
And we nestle, each in each,
As leans the pliant sea in the clean-curved limbs of her lover the beach;
Merged in each other quite,

A Lost Opportunity

© Robert Fuller Murray

One dark, dark night-it was long ago,
The air was heavy and still and warm -
It fell to me and a man I know,
To see two girls to their father's farm.

To John Gorham Palfrey

© James Russell Lowell

There are who triumph in a losing cause,
Who can put on defeat, as 'twere a wreath
Unwithering in the adverse popular breath,
Safe from the blasting demagogue's applause;
'Tis they who stand for Freedom and God's laws.

Torn In Shreds

© Mirabai

Mine is Gopal, the Mountain-Holder; there is no one else.
On his head he wears the peacock-crown: He alone is my husband.
Father, mother, brother, relative: I have none to call my own.
I've forsaken both God, and the family's honor: what should I do?

Ralph Isham, 1753 And Later

© Eli Siegel

Know you him, O, him,
Who lived in those days?
He wore a gay coat,
And he stepped along, jauntily, jauntily,

By The Seaside : The Lighthouse

© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

The rocky ledge runs far into the sea,
And on its outer point, some miles away,
The Lighthouse lifts its massive masonry,
A pillar of fire by night, of cloud by day.

The Judgement Of The Poets

© William Cowper

Two nymphs, both nearly of an age,
Of numerous charms possessed,
A warm dispute once chanced to wage,
Whose temper was the best.

The Muses Threnodie: Sixth Muse

From thence we passing by the Windy Gowle,
Did make the hollow rocks with echoes yowle,
And all alongst the mountains of Kinnoull,
Where did we shoot at many fox and fowl.