Health poems
/ page 2 of 85 /A Poem, Addressed to the Lord Privy Seal, on the Prospect of Peace
© Thomas Tickell
To The Lord Privy SealContending kings, and fields of death, too long,Have been the subject of the British song
The Seasons: Summer
© James Thomson
From brightening fields of ether fair-disclos'd,Child of the sun, refulgent Summer comes,In pride of youth, and felt through nature's depth:He comes, attended by the sultry HoursAnd ever-fanning Breezes, on his way;While, from his ardent look, the turning SpringAverts her blushful face; and earth and skies,All-smiling, to his hot dominion leaves
In Memoriam A. H. H. OBIIT MDCCCXXXIII: 131
© Alfred Tennyson
O living will that shalt endure When all that seems shall suffer shock, Rise in the spiritual rock,Flow thro' our deeds and make them pure,
In Memoriam A. H. H. OBIIT MDCCCXXXIII [all 133 poems]
© Alfred Tennyson
[Preface] Whom we, that have not seen thy face, By faith, and faith alone, embrace,Believing where we cannot prove;
My Mother
© Taylor Ann
Who fed me from her gentle breast,And hush'd me in her arms to rest,And on my cheek sweet kisses prest? My Mother.
Atalanta in Calydon: A Tragedy (complete text)
© Algernon Charles Swinburne
Tous zontas eu dran. katthanon de pas anerGe kai skia. to meden eis ouden repei
Of the Death of Sir T. W. The Elder
© Henry Howard
Wyatt resteth here, that quick could never rest;Whose heavenly gifts increased by disdain,And virtue sank the deeper in his breast;Such profit he by envy could obtain.
The Old Man's Complaints. And how he gained them
© Robert Southey
You are old, Father William, the young man cried, The few locks which are left you are grey;You are hale, Father William, a hearty old man, Now tell me the reason I pray.
The Wish of the Weary Woman
© Sigourney Lydia Huntley
A form there was, still spared by timeTill the slow century fill'd its prime;Stretch'd on its bed, with half-closed eyeIt mark'd uncertain shades flit by;Nor scarce the varied world of soundTo the seal'd ear admittance found;While the worn brow, in wrinkles dark,Seem'd like the gnarl'd oak's roughen'd bark
Astrophel and Stella: 21
© Sir Philip Sidney
Your words my friend (right healthfull caustiks) blameMy young mind marde, whom Loue doth windlas so,That mine owne writings like bad servants show,My wits, quick in vaine thoughts, in vertue lame:That Plato I reade for nought, but if he tameSuch coltish yeares, that to my birth I owNobler desires, least else that friendly foe,Great expectation, weare a traine of shame
Shakespeare's Sonnets: The other two, slight air and purging fire
© William Shakespeare
The other two, slight air and purging fire,Are both with thee, where ever I abide;The first my thought, the other my desire,These present-absent with swift motion slide