Great poems
/ page 225 of 549 /
Hon. James B. Clay
© Rosanna Eleanor Leprohon
DIED JANUARY 26th, 1864, THE HON. JAMES B. CLAY, OF ASHLANDS, KENTUCKY, ELDEST SON OF THE ILLUSTRIOUS HENRY CLAY.
Another pang for Southern hearts,
Life
© Madison Julius Cawein
There is never a thing we dream or do
But was dreamed and done in the ages gone;
Everything's old; there is nothing that's new,
And so it will be while the world goes on.
A Man's A Man For A' That
© Charles Mackay
"A man's a man," says Robert Burns,
"For a' that and a' that";
Ode To Liberty
© Percy Bysshe Shelley
Yet, Freedom, yet, thy banner, torn but flying,
Streams like a thunder-storm against the wind.--BYRON.
I.
A glorious people vibrated again
Rose Mary
© Dante Gabriel Rossetti
Of her two fights with the Beryl-stone
Lost the first, but the second won.
The Death Of Adam
© Robert Laurence Binyon
Cedars, that high upon the untrodden slopes
Of Lebanon stretch out their stubborn arms,
Through all the tempests of seven hundred years
Fast in their ancient place, where they look down
The Garden Of Gethsemane
© Rosanna Eleanor Leprohon
The place is fair and tranquil, Judaeas cloudless sky
Smiles down on distant mountain, on glade and valley nigh,
And odorous winds bring fragrance from palm-tops darkly green,
And olive trees whose branches wave softly oer the scene.
Hero And Leander. The Fourth Sestiad
© George Chapman
Now from Leander's place she rose, and found
Her hair and rent robe scatter'd on the ground;
Svanhvit's Colloquy
© Per Daniel Amadeus Atterbom
What countless paths wind down, from divers points,
To yonder city gates!--Oh, wilt not thou,
My star, appear to me on one of them?
Whate'er I said,--thou art my worshiped sun.
Then pardon me;--thou art not cold; oh, no!
Too warm, too glowing warm, art thou for me.
Laus Virginitatis
© Arthur Symons
The mirror of men's eyes delights me less,
mirror, than the friend I find in thee;
Thou loves!:, as I love, my loveliness,
Thou givest my beauty back to me.
The Golden Legend: III. A Street In Strasburg
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
_Crier of the dead (ringing a bell)._ Wake! wake!
All ye that sleep!
Pray for the Dead!
Pray for the Dead!
The Friendly Trees
© Henry Van Dyke
I will sing of the bounty of the big trees,
They are the green tents of the Almighty,
He hath set them up for comfort and for shelter.
Battle Of Brunanburgh
© Alfred Tennyson
Theirs was a greatness
Got from their Grandsires-
Theirs that so often in
Strife with their enemies
Struck for their hoards and their hearths and their homes.
What We Want
© Wilcox Ella Wheeler
All nail the dawn of a new day breaking,
When a strong-armed nation shall take away
Great City
© Harold Monro
When all the lamps were lighted in the town
I passed into the street ways and I watched,
Wakeful, almost happy,
And half the night I wandered in the street.
Lux Perdita
© William Watson
Thine were the weak, slight hands
That might have taken this strong soul, and bent
Its stubborn substance to thy soft intent,
And bound it unresisting, with such bands
As not the arm of envious heaven had rent.
To Mrs. Goodchild
© Charles Stuart Calverley
The night-wind's shriek is pitiless and hollow,
The boding bat flits by on sullen wing,
And I sit desolate, like that "one swallow"
Who found (with horror) that he'd not brought spring:
Lonely as he who erst with venturous thumb
Drew from its pie-y lair the solitary plum.
Dawn and Sunrise in the Snowy Mountains
© Charles Harpur
A few thin strips of fleecy cloud lies long
And motionless above the eastern steeps,
