Great poems

 / page 425 of 549 /
star nullstar nullstar nullstar nullstar null

The Traveller And The Farm-Maiden

© Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

HE.

CANST thou give, oh fair and matchless maiden,

star nullstar nullstar nullstar nullstar null

The Light That Failed

© Rudyard Kipling

Then we brought the lances down--then the trumpets blew--
When we went to Kandahar, ridin' two an' two.
Ridin'--ridin'--ridin' two an' two!
Ta-ra-ra-ra-ra-ra-a!
All the way to Kandahar,
Ridin' two an' two.

star nullstar nullstar nullstar nullstar null

Metamorphoses: Book The Fourth

© Ovid

  The End of the Fourth Book.


 Translated into English verse under the direction of
 Sir Samuel Garth by John Dryden, Alexander Pope, Joseph Addison,
 William Congreve and other eminent hands

star nullstar nullstar nullstar nullstar null

The Lesson

© Rudyard Kipling

Not on a single issue, or in one direction or twain,
But conclusively, comprehensively, and several times and
again,

star nullstar nullstar nullstar nullstar null

The Legend of Evil

© Rudyard Kipling

I
This is the sorrowful story
Told when the twilight fails
And the monkeys walk together

star nullstar nullstar nullstar nullstar null

Nos Immortales

© Stephen Vincent Benet

I have known hours, slow and golden-glowing,
Lovely with laughter and suffused with light,
O Lord, in such a time appoint my going,
When the hands clench, and the cold face grows white,
And the spark dies within the feeble brain,
Spilling its star-dust back to dust again.

star nullstar nullstar nullstar nullstar null

The Land

© Rudyard Kipling

When Julius Fabricius, Sub-Prefect of the Weald,
In the days of Diocletian owned our Lower River-field,
He called to him Hobdenius-a Briton of the Clay,
Saying: "What about that River-piece for layin'' in to hay?"

star nullstar nullstar nullstar nullstar null

Kitchener's School

© Rudyard Kipling

Being a translation of the song that was made by a Mohammedanschoolmaster of Bengal Infantry (some time on service at Suakim)when he heard that Kitchener was taking money from the English tobuild a Madrissa for Hubshees -- or a college for the Sudanese.
Oh Hubshee, carry your shoes in your hand and bow your head on your breast!
This is the message of Kitchener who did not break you in jest.
It was permitted to him to fulfil the long-appointed years;
Reaching the end ordained of old over your dead Emirs.

star nullstar nullstar nullstar nullstar null

Songs of the Night Watches (complete)

© Jean Ingelow

Come out and hear the waters shoot, the owlet hoot, the owlet hoot;
  Yon crescent moon, a golden boat, hangs dim behind the tree, O!
The dropping thorn makes white the grass, O sweetest lass, and sweetest
  lass;
  Come out and smell the ricks of hay adown the croft with me, O!”

star nullstar nullstar nullstar nullstar null

Justice

© Rudyard Kipling

October, 1918
Across a world where all men grieve
And grieving strive the more,
The great days range like tides and leave

star nullstar nullstar nullstar nullstar null

The Pro-Consuls

© Rudyard Kipling

They that dig foundations deep,
 Fit for realms to rise upon,
Little honour do they reap
 Of their generation,
Any more than mountains gain
Stature till we reach the plain.

star nullstar nullstar nullstar nullstar null

Introduction To A Pilgrim's Progress

© John Bunyan

As I walked through the wilderness of this world, I lighted on a certain place where was a den (the gaol), and I laid me down in that place to sleep: and as I slept, I dreamed a dream. I dreamed; and behold, I saw a man clothed with rags standing in a certain place, with his face from his own house, a book in his hand, and a great burden upon his back. I looked, and saw him open the book, and read therein; and as he read, he wept and trembled;


"For mine iniquities are gone over mine head: as an heavy burden they are too heavy for me."

star nullstar nullstar nullstar nullstar null

The Legion Of Iron

© Lola Ridge

They pass through the great iron gates -

Men with eyes gravely discerning,

star nullstar nullstar nullstar nullstar null

To Sir Henry Wotton At His Going Ambassador To Venice

© John Donne

AFTER those reverend papers, whose soul is
  Our good and great king's loved hand and fear'd name ;
By which to you he derives much of his,
  And, how he may, makes you almost the same,

star nullstar nullstar nullstar nullstar null

The Houses

© Rudyard Kipling

'Twixt my house and thy house the pathway is broad,
In thy house or my house is half the world's hoard;
By my house and thy house hangs all the world's fate,
On thy house and my house lies half the world's hate.

star nullstar nullstar nullstar nullstar null

The Heritage

© Rudyard Kipling

Our Fathers in a wondrous age,
Ere yet the Earth was small,
Ensured to us a heritage,
And doubted not at all

star nullstar nullstar nullstar nullstar null

Undivine Comedy

© Zygmunt Krasinski

THE MAN:
(Casting away his cloak) I need you no longer. My best men have perished and those kneeling over there are stretching out their arms to the victors and bellowing for mercy! (He looks all around him.) They are not coming up this side yet. There is still time. Let us rest a while. Ha, now they have battered their way up the northern tower. New troops have plunged into the tower and they are looking to see if Count Henry is hidden somewhere there. I am here, here - but you shall not judge me! I have already started on my way. I am going toward the judgment of God. (He mounts a fragment of a bastion overhanging the very precipice.) I see it, all black, with dark expanses, flowing toward me, my eternity, without shores, without islands, without end, and in its midst is God, like an eternally burning sun - ever shining - and illuminating nothing. (Advances a step farther. ) They run, they've seen me! Jesus, Mary! O poetry, be you as cursed as I am for all the ages! Arms of mine, go before and cut me a path through those ramparts! (He leaps into the precipice.)

star nullstar nullstar nullstar nullstar null

A Romance In The Rough

© Arthur Patchett Martin

A sturdy fellow, with a sunburnt face,
And thews and sinews of a giant mould;
A genial mind, that harboured nothing base,—
A pocket void of gold.

star nullstar nullstar nullstar nullstar null

A Poem On The Last Day - Book III

© Edward Young

Each gesture mourns, each look is black with care,
And every groan is loaden with despair.
Reader, if guilty, spare the Muse, and find
A truer image pictured in thy mind.

star nullstar nullstar nullstar nullstar null

Great-Heart

© Rudyard Kipling

Theodore Roosevelt"The interpreter then called for a man-servant of his, one Great-Heart."--Bunyan's' Pilgrim's Process Concerning brave Captains
Our age hath made known
For all men to honour,
One standeth alone,