Great poems
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An Appearance
© Sylvia Plath
The smile of iceboxes annihilates me.
Such blue currents in the veins of my loved one!
I hear her great heart purr.
Preparations For Victory
© Edmund Blunden
My soul, dread not the pestilence that hags
The valley; flinch not you, my body young.
In Oblivion
© Peter McArthur
COME, friend, there's going to be a merry meeting
After the play. Our masks we'll throw aside,
Torto Volitans Sub Verbere Turbo Quem Pueri Magno In Gyro Vacua Atria Circum Intenti Ludo Exercent
© James Clerk Maxwell
Of pearies and their origin I sing:
How at the first great Jove the lord of air
"Whenever I think of you, you are alone"
© Lesbia Harford
Whenever I think of you, you are alone,
Shut by yourself between
Great walls of stone.
There is a stool, I think, and a table there,
The Worlds Exile
© Richard Monckton Milnes
Well, I will tell you, kind adviser,
Why thus I ever roam
In distant lands, nor wish to guide
My footsteps to the fair hill--side
Where stands my sacred home.
The Wind Of Spring
© Madison Julius Cawein
The wind that breathes of columbines
And celandines that crowd the rocks;
That shakes the balsam of the pines
With laughter from his airy locks,
Stops at my city door and knocks.
The Princess (part 5)
© Alfred Tennyson
Home they brought her warrior dead:
She nor swooned, nor uttered cry:
All her maidens, watching, said,
'She must weep or she will die.'
Night Song Of A Wandering Shepherd In Asia
© Giacomo Leopardi
What doest thou in heaven, O moon?
Say, silent moon, what doest thou?
The End Of Fear
© Gilbert Keith Chesterton
Though the whole heaven be one-eyed with the moon,
Though the dead landscape seem a thing possessed,
Yet I go singing through that land oppressed
As one that singeth through the flowers of June.
The Castle-Builder. (Birds Of Passage. Flight The Third)
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
A gentle boy, with soft and silken locks,
A dreamy boy, with brown and tender eyes,
A castle-builder, with his wooden blocks,
And towers that touch imaginary skies.
To Sir Walter Scott
© William Lisle Bowles
ON ACCIDENTLY MEETING AND PARTING WITH SIR WALTER SCOTT, WHOM I HAD NOT
SEEN FOR MANY YEARS, IN THE STREETS OF LONDON
At Eventide
© John Greenleaf Whittier
Poor and inadequate the shadow-play
Of gain and loss, of waking and of dream,
Good Teacher
© Henry Van Dyke
He leadeth me in the lowly path of learning,
He prepareth a lesson for me every day;
He bringeth me to the clear fountains of instruction,
Little by little he showeth me the beauty of truth.
To The Same
© Sydney Thompson Dobell
Töchterchenlein, by whom the least became
The greatest title of dear Daughterhood,
The Ebb Of War
© Robert Laurence Binyon
In the seven--times taken and re--taken town
Peace! The mind stops; sense argues against sense.
The August sun is ghostly in the street
As if the Silence of a thousand years
The Death Of Day
© Richard Monckton Milnes
Full of hours, the Day is falling
Where its brethren lie,--
A stern and royal voice is calling
The beautiful to die.
Two Visits To A Grave
© Richard Monckton Milnes
I stood by the grave of one beloved,
On a chill and windless night,--
When not a blade of grass was moved,
In its rigid sheath of white.
To Mr. Addison on His Tragedy of Cato
© Thomas Tickell
Too long hath love engross'd Britannia's stage,
And sunk to softness all our tragic rage:
The Helot
© Isabella Valancy Crawford
Low the sun beat on the land,
Red on vine and plain and wood;
With the wine-cup in his hand,
Vast the Helot herdsman stood.
