Great poems
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The Miracle
© Virna Sheard
Up from the templed city of the Jews,
The road ran straight and white
To Jericho, the City of the Palms,
The City of Delight.
The Khan's Devil
© John Greenleaf Whittier
The Khan came from Bokhara town
To Hamza, santon of renown.
Elegy On Newstead Abbey
© George Gordon Byron
No mail-clad serfs, obedient to their lord,
In grim array the crimson cross demand;
Or gay assemble round the festive board
Their chief's retainers, an immortal band:
Eclogue
© John Donne
ALLOPHANES FINDING IDIOS IN THE COUNTRY IN
CHRISTMAS TIME, REPREHENDS HIS ABSENCE
FROM COURT, AT THE MARRIAGE OF THE EARL
OF SOMERSET ; IDIOS GIVES AN ACCOUNT OF
HIS PURPOSE THEREIN, AND OF HIS ACTIONS
THERE.
The Wish.
© Wilcox Ella Wheeler
Should some great angel say to me tomorrow,
"Thou must re-tread thy pathway from the start,
The Song Of Hiawatha XXII: Hiawatha's Departure
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
O'er the water floating, flying,
Something in the hazy distance,
Something in the mists of morning,
Loomed and lifted from the water,
Now seemed floating, now seemed flying,
Coming nearer, nearer, nearer.
Phrenology
© William Schwenck Gilbert
"COME, collar this bad man -
Around the throat he knotted me
Till I to choke began -
In point of fact, garotted me!"
The National Paintings
© Joseph Rodman Drake
Awake,ye forms of verse divine!
Painting! descend on canvas wing,
A Letter from a Candidate for the Presidency
© James Russell Lowell
Dear Sir-You wish to know my notions
On sartin pints thet rile the land;
Son Davie! Son Davie!
© Andrew Lang
"What bluid's that on thy coat lap?
Son Davie! Son Davie!
What bluid's that on thy coat lap?
And the truth come tell to me, O."
Elegy Of Lincoln
© Joseph Furphy
Lincoln is gone who ruled the Western Land
From the Pacific to the Atlantic's brim
And cold and nerveless lies the mighty hand
That struck the fetters from the negro's limb.
I Stood Tip-Toe Upon A Little Hill
© John Keats
I stood tip-toe upon a little hill,
The air was cooling, and so very still,
That the sweet buds which with a modest pride
Pull droopingly, in slanting curve aside,
Quatrains Of Life
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
What has my youth been that I love it thus,
Sad youth, to all but one grown tedious,
Stale as the news which last week wearied us,
Or a tired actor's tale told to an empty house?
The Torrent
© Mathilde Blind
OH torrent, roaring in thy giant fall,
And thund'ring grandly o'er th' opposing blocks,
Art
© Alfred Noyes
Yes! Beauty still rebels!
Our dreams like clouds disperse:
She dwells
In agate, marble, verse.
