Great poems
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On The Death Of Ladie Caesar
© William Strode
Though Death to good men be the greatest boone,
I dare not think this Lady dyde so soone.
She should have livde for others: Poor mens want
Should make her stande, though she herselfe should faynt.
The True-Blue American
© Delmore Schwartz
Jeremiah Dickson was a true-blue American,
For he was a little boy who understood America, for he felt that he must
On The Death Of Dr. Lancton President Of Maudlin College
© William Strode
When men for injuryes unsatisfy'd,
For hopes cutt off, for debts not fully payd,
For legacies in vain expected, mourne
Over theyr owne respects within the urne,
The Wanderings Of Oisin: Book III
© William Butler Yeats
Fled foam underneath us, and round us, a wandering and milky smoke,
High as the Saddle-girth, covering away from our glances the tide;
And those that fled, and that followed, from the foam-pale distance broke;
The immortal desire of Immortals we saw in their faces, and sighed.
On The Bible
© William Strode
Once more this mighty word his people greets,
Thus lapt and thus swath'd upp in paper sheets:
Read here God's Image with a zealous eye,
The legible and written Deity.
On His Lady Marie
© William Strode
Marie, Incarnate Virtue, Soule and Skin
Both pure, whom Death not Life convincd of Sin,
Had Daughters like seven Pleiades; but She
Was a prime Star of greatest Claritie.
The Haglets
© Herman Melville
There, peaked and gray, three haglets fly,
And follow, follow fast in wake
Where slides the cabin-lustre shy,
And sharks from man a glamour take,
Seething along the line of light
In lane that endless rules the war-ship's flight.
On A Great Hollow Tree
© William Strode
Preethee stand still awhile, and view this tree
Renown'd and honour'd for antiquitie
By all the neighbour twiggs; for such are all
The trees adjoyning, bee they nere so tall,
The Lay Of St. Odille
© Richard Harris Barham
Odille was a maid of a dignified race;
Her father, Count Otto, was lord of Alsace;
Fragments
© John Masefield
Troy Town is covered up with weeds,
The rabbits and the pismires brood
On broken gold, and shards, and beads
Where Priam's ancient palace stood.
To The Merchants Of Bought Dreams
© Arthur Symons
I buy no more from merchants of bought dreams,
For I have greater memories than these bring
An Epitaph On Mr. Fishborne The Great London Benefactor, And His Executor
© William Strode
What are thy gaines, O death, if one man ly
Stretch'd in a bed of clay, whose charity
Doth hereby get occasion to redeeme
Thousands out of the grave: though cold hee seeme
Moonlight
© John Kenyon
Not alway from the lessons of the schools,
Taught evermore by those who trust them not,
A Paralell Between Bowling And Preferment
© William Strode
Preferment, like a Game at bowles,
To feede our hope with diverse play
Heer quick it runnes, there soft it rowles:
The Betters make and shew the way.
The Willow Bottom
© Madison Julius Cawein
Lush green the grass that grows between
The willows of the bottom-land;
Verged by the careless water, tall and green,
The brown-topped cat-tails stand.
Upon a Fit of Sickness
© Anne Bradstreet
Twice ten years old not fully told
since nature gave me breath,
My race is run, my thread spun,
lo, here is fatal death.
To Her Father with Some Verses
© Anne Bradstreet
Most truly honoured, and as truly dear,
If worth in me or ought I do appear,
Who can of right better demand the same
Than may your worthy self from whom it came?
American Feuillage
© Walt Whitman
Whoever you are! how can I but offer you divine leaves, that you also
be eligible as I am?
How can I but, as here, chanting, invite you for yourself to collect
bouquets of the incomparable feuillage of These States?
The Four Ages of Man
© Anne Bradstreet
1.1 Lo now! four other acts upon the stage,
1.2 Childhood, and Youth, the Manly, and Old-age.
1.3 The first: son unto Phlegm, grand-child to water,
1.4 Unstable, supple, moist, and cold's his Nature.
The House Delirious
© Leon Gellert
These corridors! These corridors and halls!
This change of light and gathered mystery:
These whisperings; this silent dust that palls
The buried gone are mine-a solemn property.
