Great poems
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Out Of Sight, Out Of Mind
© Barnabe Googe
The oftener seen, the more I lust,
The more I lust, the more I smart,
A Fable For Critics
© James Russell Lowell
'Why, nothing of consequence, save this attack
On my friend there, behind, by some pitiful hack,
Who thinks every national author a poor one,
That isn't a copy of something that's foreign,
And assaults the American Dick--'
The Secret Foe
© Katharine Tynan
When now to battle he shall ride,
The bravest of the brave,
Joan the Maid be by his side
And Michael, quick to save.
The Judgment Of Paris
© Thomas Parnell
Where waving Pines the brows of Ida shade,
The swain young Paris half supinely laid,
Saw the loose Flocks thro' shrubs unnumber'd rove
And Piping call'd them to the gladded grove.
'Twas there he met the Message of the skies,
That he the Judge of Beauty deal the prize.
Sonnet. "Beside a well-reap'd field at Eventide"
© Frances Anne Kemble
Beside a well-reap'd field at Eventide,
One laid him down to rest who'd wandered far,
Letter From The Town Mouse To The Country Mouse
© Horace Smith
I.
Oh for a field, my friend; oh for a field!
What Are Cities For?
© Robinson Jeffers
The earth has covered Sicilian Syracuse, there asphodel grows,
As golden-rod will over New York.
The School
© John Crowe Ransom
I WAS not drowsy though the scholars droned.
Hearing the music that they made of Greek,
Grey
© Ada Cambridge
Is the morning dim and cloudy? Does the wind drift up the leaves?
Is there mist upon the mountains, where the sun shone yesterday?
Are the little song-birds silent? Is the sky all blurred and grey?
Does the rain fall, patter, patter, from the eaves?
My Little Boy That Died
© Henry Austin Dobson
Look at his pretty face for just one minute !
His braided frock and dainty buttoned shoes,
His firm-shut hand, the favorite plaything in it,
Then, tell me, mothers, was it not hard to lose
And miss him from my side,
My little boy that died?
The Merchant Of Venice: A Legend Of Italy
© Richard Harris Barham
With a pack,
Like a sack
Of old clothes at his back,
And three hats on his head, Shylock came in a crack,
Saying, 'Rest you fair, Signior Antonio!- vat, pray,
Might your vorship be pleashed for to vant in ma vay!'
Oglethorpe
© Madison Julius Cawein
An Ode to be read on the laying of the foundation
stone of the new Oglethorpe University,
Arrival In Rome
© Frances Anne Kemble
Early in life, when hope seems prophecy,
And strong desire can sometimes mould a fate,
The Conversion Of St. Paul
© John Keble
The mid-day sun, with fiercest glare,
Broods o'er the hazy twinkling air:
Along the level sand
The palm-tree's shade unwavering lies,
Just as thy towers, Damascus, rise
To greet you wearied band.
Contrasted Songs: Remonstrance
© Jean Ingelow
Daughters of Eve! your mother did not well:
She laid the apple in your father’s hand,
And we have read, O wonder! what befell,—
The man was not deceived, nor yet could stand:
He chose to lose, for love of her, his throne,—
With her could die, but could not live alone.
The Folk-Mote By The River
© William Morris
And now we saw the banners borne
On the first of the way that we had shorn;
So we laid the scythe upon the sward
And girt us to the battle-sword.
