Great poems
/ page 50 of 549 /
The Siege Of Corinth
© George Gordon Byron
XXVII.
Still the old man stood erect,
And Alp's career a moment check'd.
"Yield thee, Minotti; quarter take,
For thine own, thy daughter's sake."
Alice And Una. A Tale Of Ceim-An-Eich
© Denis Florence MacCarthy
With a sigh for what is fading, but, O Earth! with no upbraiding,
For we feel that time is braiding newer, fresher flowers for thee,
We will speak, despite our grieving, words of loving and believing,
Tales we vowed when we were leaving awful Ceim-an-eich,
Where the sever'd rocks resemble fragments of a frozen sea,
And the wild deer flee!
Charity : A Paraphrase On 1 Cor. Chap. 13
© Matthew Prior
Did sweeter Sounds adorn my flowing Tongue,
Than ever Man pronounc'd, or Angel sung:
Second Sunday In Lent
© John Keble
"And is there in God's world so drear a place
Where the loud bitter cry is raised in vain?
Where tears of penance come too late for grace,
As on the uprooted flower the genial rain?"
The House of Peers
© William Schwenck Gilbert
When Britain really ruled the waves -
(In good Queen Bess's time)
Of The Dawn Of Freedom
© James Russell Lowell
Careless seems the great Avenger;
Historys lessons but recorded
To The Soldiers Of Pius Ninth
© Rosanna Eleanor Leprohon
Warriors true, tis no false glory
For which now you peril life,
An Irish Mother
© William Percy French
Great wages men is givin'
In the land beyant the say,
But 'tis lonely lonely livin'
Whin the childher is away.
Ode: To be performed by Dr. Brettle, and a chorus of Halesowen citizens
© William Shenstone
Awake! I say, awake, good people!
And be for once alive and gay;
Come, let's be merry; stir the tipple;
How can you sleep?
Whilst I do play? How can you sleep? &c.
Biography
© John Masefield
Yet when I am dust my penman may not know
Those water-trampling ships which made me glow,
But think my wonder mad and fail to find,
Their glory, even dimly, from my mind,
And yet they made me:
On King William's Happy Deliverance from the Intended Assassination
© Charles Sackville
The youth whose fortune the vast globe obey'd,
Finding his royal enemy betray'd
The Land Of Hearts Made Whole
© Madison Julius Cawein
Do you know the way that goes
Over fields of rue and rose,--
Warm of scent and hot of hue,
Roofed with heaven's bluest blue,--
To the Vale of Dreams Come True?
Song Of The Trees
© Mary Colborne-Veel
We are the Trees.
On us the dying rest
Their strange, sad eyes, in farewell messages.
And we, his comrades still, since earth began,
Wave mournful boughs above the grave of man,
And coffin his cold breast.
Celebrating T'ae-Sze's Freedom From Jealousy
© Confucius
In the South are the trees whose branches are bent,
And droop in such fashion that o'er their extent
All the dolichos' creepers fast cling.
See our princely lady, from whom we have got
Rejoicing that's endless! May her happy lot
And her honors repose ever bring!
Little Red Riding Hood and the Wolf
© Roald Dahl
Then added with a frightful leer,
"I'm therefore going to wait right here
Till Little Miss Red Riding Hood
Comes home from walking in the wood."
Out Of Pompeii
© William Wilfred Campbell
She lay, face downward, on her beaded arm,
In this her new, sweet dream of human bliss,
Her heart within her fearful, fluttering, warm,
Her lips yet pained with love's first timorous kiss.
O, Were I Loved As I Desire To Be!
© Alfred Tennyson
O, were I loved as I desire to be!
What is there in the great sphere of the earth,
The Angel In The House. Book I. Canto III.
© Coventry Kersey Dighton Patmore
IV The Attainment
You love? That's high as you shall go;
For 'tis as true as Gospel text,
Not noble then is never so,
Either in this world or the next.
With Scindia To Delhi
© Rudyard Kipling
More than a hundred years ago, in a great battle fought near Delhi,
an Indian Prince rode fifty miles after the day was lost
with a beggar-girl, who had loved him and followed him in all his camps,
on his saddle-bow. He lost the girl when almost within sight of safety.
A Maratta trooper tells the story: -
The Preface of L. Blundeston
© Barnabe Googe
The Senses dull of my appalled muse
Foreweryed with the trauayle of my brayne
