Great poems
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The Chrysalis
© George MacDonald
Methought I floated sightless, nor did know
That I had ears until I heard the cry
Within and Without: Part IV: A Dramatic Poem
© George MacDonald
SCENE I.-Summer. Julian's room. JULIAN is reading out of a book of
poems.
October 1973
© John Betjeman
Last night I dreamed I ran through the streets of New York
Looking for help for you, Nicanor.
Paradise Regain'd: Book I (1671)
© Patrick Kavanagh
I Who e're while the happy Garden sung,
By one mans disobedience lost, now sing
The Character Of The Bore
© John Donne
Well; I may now receive and die. My sin
Indeed is great, but yet I have been in
God Hides His People
© William Cowper
To lay the soul that loves him low,
Becomes the Onlywise:
To hide beneath a veil of woe,
The children of the skies.
Love Is Enough: Songs I-IX
© William Morris
Love is enough: though the World be a-waning
And the woods have no voice but the voice of complaining,
Another Night in the Ruins
© Washington Allston
5
I listen.
I hear nothing. Only
the cow, the cow of such
hollowness, mooing
down the bones.
Bottom
© Arthur Rimbaud
Reality being too thorny for my great personality.
--I found myself nevertheless at my lady's,
The Jungfrau To Beth
© Louisa May Alcott
God bless you, dear Queen Bess!
May nothing you dismay,
But health and peace and happiness
Be yours, this Christmas day.
O Carib Isle!
© Hart Crane
And yet suppose
I count these nacreous frames of tropic death,
Brutal necklaces of shells around each grave
Squared off so carefully. Then
The Lotos-eaters
© Alfred Tennyson
"Courage!" he said, and pointed toward the land,
"This mounting wave will roll us shoreward soon."
Epistles to Several Persons: Epistle IV
© Alexander Pope
Still follow sense, of ev'ry art the soul,
Parts answ'ring parts shall slide into a whole,
Spontaneous beauties all around advance,
Start ev'n from difficulty, strike from chance;
Nature shall join you; time shall make it grow
A work to wonder at—perhaps a Stowe.
Care for Thy Soul as Thing of Greatest Price
© Donald Justice
Care for thy soul as thing of greatest price,
Made to the end to taste of power divine,
Devoid of guilt, abhorring sin and vice,
Apt by God’s grace to virtue to incline.
Care for it so as by thy retchless train
It be not brought to taste eternal pain.
An Epistle: (To N.A.)
© William Watson
So, into Cornwall you go down,
And leave me loitering here in town.
To Asra
© Samuel Taylor Coleridge
Are there two things, of all which men possess,
That are so like each other and so near,
