Great poems
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The Last Room
© Bliss William Carman
THERE, close the door!
I shall not need these lodgings any more.
Now that I go, dismantled wall and floor
Reproach me and deplore.
The Proud Poet
© Adelaide Crapsey
Great Kings were dust and all their deeds forgot
Did my harp's taut and burnished strings stand mute;
The Realm Of Rest
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
In the realm that Nature boundeth
Are there balmy shores of peace,
Where no passion-torrent soundeth,
And no storm-wind seeks release?
To The Superior Animal
© Anna Laetitia Waring
To sum up all, I'm old - and that's
A fact the years decide;
It is a common thing with cats
And not a thing to hide.
Canto de Esperanza (With English Translation)
© Rubén Dario
Un gran vuelo de cuervos mancha el azul celeste.
Un soplo milenario trae amagos de peste.
Se asesinan los hombres en el extremo Este.
A Ballad Of The Town Water
© Robert Fuller Murray
It is the Police Commissioners,
All on a winter's day;
And they to prove the town water
Have set themselves away.
And You, Helen
© Edward Thomas
And you, Helen, what should I give you?
So many things I would give you
A Forecast
© Archibald Lampman
One thing I know: if he be great and pure,
This love, this fire, this beauty shall endure;
Triumph and hope shall lead him by the palm:
But if not this, some differing thing he be,
That dream shall break in terror; he shall see
The whirlwind ripen, where he sowed the calm.
Past Hours
© Frances Anne Kemble
Two angels have them in eternal keeping.
He that beside the deep vaults of the past
Love's Treasure House
© David MacDonald Ross
I went to Love's old treasure house last night,
Alone, when all the world was still - asleep,
America for Me
© Henry Van Dyke
'Tis fine to see the Old World and travel up and down
Among the famous palaces and cities of renown,
To admire the crumbly castles and the statues and kings
But now I think I've had enough of antiquated things.
The Prisoners Of Naples
© John Greenleaf Whittier
I HAVE been thinking of the victims bound
In Naples, dying for the lack of air
And sunshine, in their close, damp cells of pain,
Where hope is not, and innocence in vain
Sir Eustace Grey
© George Crabbe
And shall I then the fact deny?
I was--thou know'st--I was begone,
Like him who fill'd the eastern throne,
To whom the Watcher cried aloud;
That royal wretch of Babylon,
Who was so guilty and so proud.
The Voyage Of St. Brendan A.D. 545 - The Buried City
© Denis Florence MacCarthy
Beside that giant stream that foams and swells
Betwixt Hy-Conaill and Moyarta's shore,
And guards the isle where good Senanus dwells,
A gentle maiden dwelt in days of yore.
Picture By Giov. Bellini, In The Church Of The Redentore At Venice
© Richard Monckton Milnes
THE VIRGIN.
Who am I, to be so far exalted
Over all the maidens of Judaea,
That here only in this lonely bosom
Battle Song
© Bert Leston Taylor
We stand at Armageddon, where fighting
men have stood,
And creeds and races mingle in one great
brotherhood;
The Black Rock
© John Gould Fletcher
Off the long headland, threshed about by round-backed breakers,
There is a black rock, standing high at the full tide;
Off the headland there is emptiness,
And the moaning of the ocean,
And the black rock standing alone.
And the Greatest of These Is War
© James Weldon Johnson
And Satan smiled, stretched out his hand, and said,
"O War, of all the scourges of humanity, I crown you chief."
And Hell rang with the acclamation of the Fiends.
Hunted Down
© Henry Kendall
Two years had the tiger, whose shape was that of a sinister man,
Been out since the night of escape - two years under horror and ban.
