Great poems
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The White Peacock
© Stephen Vincent Benet
Go away!
Go away; I will not confess to you!
His black biretta clings like a hangman's cap; under his twitching fingers the beads shiver and click,
As he mumbles in his corner, the shadow deepens upon him;
I will not confess! . . .
The Borough. Letter XXII: Peter Grimes
© George Crabbe
Now lived the youth in freedom, but debarr'd
From constant pleasure, and he thought it hard;
Hard that he could not every wish obey,
But must awhile relinquish ale and play;
Hard! that he could not to his cards attend,
But must acquire the money he would spend.
Once By The Pacific
© Robert Frost
The shattered water made a misty din.
Great waves looked over others coming in,
And thought of doing something to the shore
That water never did to land before.
A Girl's Garden
© Robert Frost
A NEIGHBOR of mine in the village
Likes to tell how one spring
When she was a girl on the farm, she did
A childlike thing.
A Question.
© Arthur Henry Adams
AND so in the death-darkened chamber they met,
The woman that once he had loved and the one he loved yet
The wife who had warped his desire and the woman he could not forget.
They stood by the bier where between them he slept,
Elegy XIX
© John Donne
Whoever loves, if he do not propose
The right true end of love, he's one that goes
After Apple-Picking
© Robert Frost
My long two-pointed ladder's sticking through a tree
Toward heaven still,
And there's a barrel that I didn't fill
Beside it, and there may be two or three
The Daft-days
© Robert Fergusson
Now mirk December's dowie face
Glours our the rigs wi' sour grimace,
While, thro' his minimum of space,
The bleer-ey'd sun
Wi' blinkin light and stealing pace,
His race doth run.
The Iconoclastic Rustic And The Apropos Acorn
© Guy Wetmore Carryl
THE MORAL: In the early spring
A pumpkin-tree would be a thing
Most gratifying to us all,
But how about the early fall?
Song
© Alfred Noyes
I came to the door of the House of Love
And knocked as the starry night went by;
And my true love cried "Who knocks?" and I said
"It is I."
Fire and Ice
© Robert Frost
Some say the world will end in fire,
Some say in ice.
From what I've tasted of desire
I hold with those who favour fire.
Street in Agrigentum
© Salvatore Quasimodo
There is still the wind that I remember
firing the manes of horses, racing,
slanting, across the plains,
the wind that stains and scours the sandstone,
Our Men
© William Watson
Our men, they are our stronghold,
Our bastioned wall unscaled,
Who, against Hate and Wrong, hold
This Realm that never quailed;
These Are The Clouds
© William Butler Yeats
THESE are the clouds about the fallen sun,
The majesty that shuts his burning eye:
Martyrs Memorial
© Louise Imogen Guiney
SUCH natural debts of love our Oxford knows,
So many ancient dues undesecrate,
Dead Man's Dump
© Isaac Rosenberg
The plunging limbers over the shattered track
Racketed with their rusty freight,
Stuck out like many crowns of thorns,
And the rusty stakes like sceptres old
To stay the flood of brutish men
Upon our brothers dear.
The Sending Of The Magi
© Bliss William Carman
IN a far Eastern country
It happened long of yore,
Where a lone and level sunrise
Flushes the desert floor,
Words
© Muriel Stuart
Is it not brave to be a king, Techelles,--
Usumcasane and Theridamas,
Is it not passing brave to be a king,
And ride in triumph through Persepolis? --MARLOWE
The Country Of Marriage
© Wendell Berry
I dream of you walking at night along the streams
of the country of my birth, warm blooms and the nightsongs
of birds opening around you as you walk.
You are holding in your body the dark seed of my sleep.
