Great poems
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The Dark Lady Sonnets (127 - 154)
© William Shakespeare
CXXVII
In the old age black was not counted fair,
Or if it were, it bore not beauty's name;
But now is black beauty's successive heir,
The Tower of the Dream
© Charles Harpur
But not thus always are our dreams benign;
Oft are they miscreationsgloomier worlds,
Crowded tempestuously with wrongs and fears,
More ghastly than the actual ever knew,
And rent with racking noises, such as should
Go thundering only through the wastes of hell.
The Charnel Rose: A Symphony
© Conrad Aiken
And a silent star slipped golden down the darkness,
Down the great wall, leaving no trace in the sky,
And years went with it, and worlds. And he dreamed still
Of a fleeter shadow among the shadows running,
Foam into foam, without a gesture or cry,
Leaving him there, alone, on a lonely hill.
A Dilettante
© Augusta Davies Webster
Good friend, be patient: goes the world awry?
well, can you groove it straight with all your pains?
and, sigh or scold, and, argue or intreat,
what have you done but waste your part of life
on impotent fool's battles with the winds,
that will blow as they list in spite of you?
Death Of Archbishop Turpin. (From The French)
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Then Turpin died in service of Charlon,
In battle great and eke great orison;--
'Gainst Pagan host alway strong champion;
God grant to him His holy benison.
Tale IV
© George Crabbe
harm;
Give me thy pardon," and he look'd alarm:
Meantime the prudent Dinah had contrived
Her soul to question, and she then revived.
"See! my good friend," and then she raised her
Corinth, On Leaving Greece
© Richard Monckton Milnes
I stood upon that great Acropolis,
The turret--gate of Nature's citadel,
Where once again, from slavery's thick abyss
Strangely delivered, Grecian warriors dwell.
For Your Boy And Mine
© Edgar Albert Guest
Your dream and my dream is not that we shall rest,
But that our children after us shall know life at its best;
For all we care about ourselvesa crust of bread or two,
A place to sleep and clothes to wear is all that we'd pursue.
We'd tramp the world on sunny days, both light of heart and mind,
And give no thought to days to come or days we leave behind.
Saint Peter
© Henry Lawson
Now, I think there is a likeness 'twixt St Peter's life and mine
For he did a lot of trampin' long ago in Palestine
He was 'union' when the workers first began to organize
And I'm glad that old St Peter keeps the gate of Paradise
July The Fourth
© Edgar Albert Guest
As when a little babe is born the parents cannot guess
The story of the future years, their grief or happiness,
So came America to earth, the child of higher things,
A nation that should light the way for all men's visionings;
A land with but a dream to serve, such was our country then,
A prophet to prepare the way of liberty of men!
Maha-Bharata, The Epic Of Ancient India - Book VIII -- Bhishma-Badha - (Fall of Bhishma)
© Romesh Chunder Dutt
All negotiations for a peaceful partition of the Kuru kingdom having
failed, both parties now prepared for a battle, perhaps the most
sanguinary that was fought on the plains of India in the ancient
times. It was a battle of nations, for all warlike races in Northern
India took a share in it.
Edith Cavell
© Robert Laurence Binyon
She was binding the wounds of her enemies when they came
The lint in her hand unrolled.
Stew Much
© Sukumar Ray
A duck once met a porcupine ; they formed a corporation
Which called itself a Porcuduck ( a beastly conjugation ! ).
A stork to a turtle said, "Let's put my head upon your torso ;
We who are so pretty now, as Stortle would be more so !"
The Rivals
© Carolyn Wells
Two well-built men, neither giant nor dwarf,
Were Monsieur Elims and Mynheer Nworf.
Questions
© Dora Sigerson Shorter
What is the secret of your life, browsing ox,
Ox the sweet grass eating?
What Time the Morning Stars Arise
© Jean Blewett
ABOVE him spreads the purple sky,
Beneath him spreads the ether sea,
And everywhere about him lie
Dim ports of space, and mystery.
Italy : 48. The Harper
© Samuel Rogers
It was a harper, wandering with his harp,
His only treasure; a majestic man,
By time and grief ennobled, not subdued;
Though from his height descending, day by day,
The Angel In The House. Book II. Canto IV.
© Coventry Kersey Dighton Patmore
III Valour misdirected
I'll hunt for dangers North and South,
To prove my love, which sloth maligns!
What seems to say her rosy mouth?
I'm not convinced by proofs but signs.
The Campaign, A Poem, To His Grace The Duke Of Marlborough
© Joseph Addison
While crowds of princes your deserts proclaim,
Proud in their number to enrol your name;
