Great poems
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The Mountain Of The Lovers
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
I.
LOVE scorns degrees! the low he lifteth high,
The high he draweth down to that fair plain
Whereon, in his divine equality,
Shakespeare
© Oliver Wendell Holmes
"Who claims our Shakespeare from that realm unknown,
Beyond the storm-vexed islands of the deep,
Where Genoa's roving mariner was blown?
Her twofold Saint's-day let our England keep;
Shall warring aliens share her holy task?"
The Old World echoes ask.
A Plantation Bacchanal
© James Weldon Johnson
W'en ole Mister Sun gits tiah'd a-hangin'
High up in de sky;
W'en der ain't no thunder and light'nin' a-bangin',
An' de crap's done all laid by;
'The Aeneid of Virgil: Book 6
© Publius Vergilius Maro
HE said, and wept; then spread his sails before
The winds, and reachd at length the Cumæan shore:
The Common Grave
© Sydney Thompson Dobell
Last night beneath the foreign stars I stood
And saw the thoughts of those at home go by
In Memory Of Col. Charles Young
© Countee Cullen
Along the shore the tall thin grass,
That fringes that dark river,
While sinuously soft feet pass
Beings to bleed and quiver.
South-West Wind In The Woodland
© George Meredith
The silence of preluded song -
AEolian silence charms the woods;
For The Commemoration Services
© Oliver Wendell Holmes
FOUR summers coined their golden light in leaves,
Four wasteful autumns flung them to the gale,
Four winters wore the shroud the tempest weaves,
The fourth wan April weeps o'er hill and vale;
Stings
© Sylvia Plath
Bare-handed, I hand the combs.
The man in white smiles, bare-handed,
Our cheesecloth gauntlets neat and sweet,
The throats of our wrists brave lilies.
He and I
The Slave Dealer
© Thomas Pringle
From ocean's wave a Wanderer came,
With visage tanned and dun:
His Mother, when he told his name,
Scarce knew her long-lost son;
So altered was his face and frame
By the ill course he had run.
No News From The War
© Augusta Davies Webster
"IS she sitting in the meadow
Where the brook leaps to the mill,
Leaning low against the poplar,
Dreamily and still?
The Sprig of Lime
© Robert Nichols
She knelt and kneeling drank the scent of limes,
Blown round the slow blind by a vesperal gust,
Till the room swam. So the lime-incense blew
Into her life as once it had in his,
Though how and when and with what ageless charge
Of sorrow and deep joy how could she know?
The Lady Of La Garaye - Part III
© Caroline Norton
And either tries to hide the thoughts that wring
Their secret hearts; and both essay to bring
Some happy topic, some yet lingering dream,
Which they with cheerful words shall make their theme;
But fail,--and in their wistful eyes confess
All their words never own of hopelessness.
A Modest Request
© Oliver Wendell Holmes
SCENE,--a back parlor in a certain square,
Or court, or lane,--in short, no matter where;
Time,--early morning, dear to simple souls
Who love its sunshine and its fresh-baked rolls;
Persons,--take pity on this telltale blush,
That, like the AEthiop, whispers, "Hush, oh hush!"
The Spirit Of The Ideal
© Denis Florence MacCarthy
Sweet sister spirits, ye whose starlight tresses
Stream on the night-winds as ye float along,
Missioned with hope to man-and with caresses
Aforetime
© Thomas Sturge Moore
Thou findest parables;
With fond imagination
Adorning truth
For the successive
Unpersuaded
Generations.
Tale I
© George Crabbe
THE DUMB ORATORS; OR THE BENEFIT OF SOCIETY.
That all men would be cowards if they dare,
The Elected Knight. From The Danish.
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Sir Oluf he rideth over the plain,
Full seven miles broad and seven miles wide,
But never, ah never, can meet with the man,
A tilt with him dare ride.
