Great poems
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Of The Death Of Sir Thomas Wyatt The Elder
© Henry Howard
Wyatt resteth here, that quick could never rest;
Whose heavenly gifts increased by disdain,
And virtue sank the deeper in his breast;
Such profit he by envy could obtain.
The Ballad of Minepit Shaw
© Rudyard Kipling
About the time that taverns shut
And men can buy no beer,
Two lads went up to the keepers' hut
To steal Lord Pelham's deer.
The Resting-Place
© Ada Cambridge
Calmly the Paschal moonlight now is sleeping
On mossy hillock and on headstone grey,
Where still our Mother holds in faithful keeping
Such as, while living, in her dear arms lay.
Ah! loving and beloved, we know ye rest,
E'en in the grave, upon her hallow'd breast.
Gladys And Her Island
© Jean Ingelow
“Ah, well, but I am here; but I have seen
The gay gorse bushes in their flowering time;
I know the scent of bean-fields; I have heard
The satisfying murmur of the main.”
The Practical Joker
© William Schwenck Gilbert
Oh what a fund of joy jocund lies hid in harmless hoaxes!
What keen enjoyment springs
Off Mesolongi
© Alfred Austin
The lights of Mesolongi gleam
Before me, now the day is gone;
And vague as leaf on drifting stream,
My keel glides on.
Jerusalem Delivered - Book 01 - part 06
© Torquato Tasso
LXXI
Aurora bright her crystal gates unbarred,
The Bard Of Breffney
© Dora Sigerson Shorter
Withered with years and broken by Time's play
I still do live, who only seek to lay
Benedicite
© John Greenleaf Whittier
God's love and peace be with thee, where
Soe'er this soft autumnal air
Lifts the dark tresses of thy hair.
Psalm CIV. Paraphrased
© James Thomson
To praise thy Author, Soul, do not forget;
Canst thou, in gratitude, deny the debt?
Lord, thou art great, how great we cannot know;
Honour and majesty do round thee flow.
The Heroic Enthusiasts - Part The Second =First Dialogue.=
© Giordano Bruno
MAR. We know that you are not a theologian but a philosopher, and that
you treat of philosophy and not of theology.
The Child Of The Islands - Spring
© Caroline Norton
I.
WHAT shalt THOU know of Spring? A verdant crown
Of young boughs waving o'er thy blooming head:
White tufted Guelder-roses, showering down
On Visiting The Tomb Of Burns
© John Keats
The town, the churchyard, and the setting sun,
The clouds, the trees, the rounded hills all seem,
Though beautiful, cold- strange- as in a dream
I dreamed long ago, now new begun.
Naples
© John Greenleaf Whittier
Fold her, O Father, in Thine arms,
And let her henceforth be
A messenger of love between
Our human hearts and Thee.
A Death in the Bush
© Henry Kendall
For, ere the early settlers came and stocked
These wilds with sheep and kine, the grasses grew
So that they took the passing pilgrim in
And whelmed him, like a running sea, from sight.
The Return Of Peace
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
They could not quell the grieved and shuddering air,
That breathed about me its forlorn despair:
It almost seemed as if stern Triumph sped
To one whose hopes were dead,
And flaunting there his fortune's ruddier grace,
Smote--with a taunt--wan Misery in the face!
Illicit
© Conrad Aiken
Of what she said to me that nightno matter.
The strange thing came next day.
The Sailor's Grave at Clo-oose, V.I.
© Marjorie Lowry Christie Pickthall
And watch for the deep-sea liner climbing
Out of the bright West,
With a salmon-sky and her wake shining
Like a tern's breast, -
Life's Slacker
© Edgar Albert Guest
The saddest sort of death to die
Would be to quit the game called life
