Great poems
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On the Death of the Rev. Mr. George Whitefield, 1770
© Phillis Wheatley
Great Countess, we Americans revere
Thy name, and mingle in thy grief sincere;
New England deeply feels, the Orphans mourn,
Their more than father will no more return.
Fighting Hard
© Henry Lawson
Fighting hard for fair Victoria, and the mountain and the glen;
(And the Memory of Eurekathere were other tyrants then),
For the glorious Gippsland forests and the Worlds great Singing Star
For the irrigation channels where the cabbage gardens are
Fighting hard.
Italy : 20. Marcolini
© Samuel Rogers
It was midnight; the great clock had struck, and was
still echoing through every porch and gallery in the
quarter of St. Mark, when a young Citizen, wrapped
in his cloak, was hastening home under it from an interview
Sonnet XLVIII
© William Shakespeare
How careful was I, when I took my way,
Each trifle under truest bars to thrust,
That to my use it might unused stay
From hands of falsehood, in sure wards of trust!
Progress-
© Dora Sigerson Shorter
"Lo! I am athirst," said the brown earth,
"And I would drink my fill."
Sonnet XL
© William Shakespeare
Take all my loves, my love, yea, take them all;
What hast thou then more than thou hadst before?
No love, my love, that thou mayst true love call;
All mine was thine before thou hadst this more.
Moeurs Contemporaines
© Ezra Pound
And by her left foot, in a basket,
Is an infant, aged about 14 months,
The infant beams at the parent,
The parent re-beams at its offspring.
The basket is lined with satin,
There is a satin-like bow on the harp.
" by Alfred Austin">The Reply Of Q. Horatius Flaccus To A Roman "Round-Robin"
© Alfred Austin
Good friends, you urge my Odes grow trite,
And that of worthless station,
Of fleeting youth and joy, I write
With endless iteration.
Sonnet LXXXVII
© William Shakespeare
Farewell! thou art too dear for my possessing,
And like enough thou know'st thy estimate:
The charter of thy worth gives thee releasing;
My bonds in thee are all determinate.
A Little Scraping
© Robinson Jeffers
True, the time, to one who does not love farce,
And if misery must be prefers it nobler, shows apparent vices;
Sonnet LXXXVI
© William Shakespeare
Was it the proud full sail of his great verse,
Bound for the prize of all too precious you,
That did my ripe thoughts in my brain inhearse,
Making their tomb the womb wherein they grew?
A Book Of Strife In The Form Of The Diary Of An Old Soul - June
© George MacDonald
1.
FROM thine, as then, the healing virtue goes
The Angel and the Girl
© Edwin Muir
The angel and the girl are met
Earth was the only meeting place.
For the embodied never yet
Travelled beyond the shore of space.
The eternal spirits in freedom go.
To Fiona
© William Stanley Braithwaite
Dear little child, whose very speech
Gives me joy beyond my heart's measure,
However far my years may reach,
Life can offer no greater treasure.
Sonnet LXX
© William Shakespeare
That thou art blamed shall not be thy defect,
For slander's mark was ever yet the fair;
The ornament of beauty is suspect,
A crow that flies in heaven's sweetest air.
The American Forest Girl
© Felicia Dorothea Hemans
They loos'd the bonds that held their captive's breath;
From his pale lips they took the cup of death;
They quench'd the brand beneath the cypress tree;
"Away," they cried, "young stranger, thou art free!"
Sonnet LXI
© William Shakespeare
Is it thy will thy image should keep open
My heavy eyelids to the weary night?
Dost thou desire my slumbers should be broken,
While shadows like to thee do mock my sight?
Another April
© James Merrill
The panes flash, tremble with your ghostly passage
Through them, an x-ray sheerness billowing, and I have risen
November
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
WITHIN the deep-blue eyes of Heaven a haze
Of saddened passion dims their tender light,
For that her fair queen-child, the Summer bright,
Lies a wan corse amidst her mouldering bays:
