Home poems

 / page 144 of 465 /
star nullstar nullstar nullstar nullstar null

Elegy XI. He Complains How Soon the Pleasing Novelty of Life Is Over

© William Shenstone

Ah me, my Friend! it will not, will not last,
This fairy scene, that cheats our youthful eyes;
The charm dissolves; th' aerial music's past;
The banquet ceases, and the vision flies.

star nullstar nullstar nullstar nullstar null

A Book of Dreams: Part I

© George MacDonald

I lay and dreamed. The master came
 In his old woven dress;
I stood in joy, and yet in shame,
 Oppressed with earthliness.

star nullstar nullstar nullstar nullstar null

Red Night

© Robert Laurence Binyon

There, there is all unsealed:
Terror and hope, ecstasy and despair
Their apparition yield,
While still through kindled street and shadowy square
The faces pass, the uncounted faces crowd,--
Rages, lamentings, joys, in masks of flesh concealed.

star nullstar nullstar nullstar nullstar null

Why I’m Glad

© Edgar Albert Guest

I'M glad I have a wife at home

That's patient, kind and true;

star nullstar nullstar nullstar nullstar null

Rus. Vs. Urbs

© Franklin Pierce Adams

Whenever the penner of this pome
Regards a lovely country home,
He sighs, in words not insincere,
"I think I'd like to live out here."

star nullstar nullstar nullstar nullstar null

The Four Seasons : Spring

© James Thomson

Come, gentle Spring! ethereal Mildness! come,
And from the bosom of yon dropping cloud,
While music wakes around, veil'd in a shower
Of shadowing roses, on our plains descend.

star nullstar nullstar nullstar nullstar null

The German-American

© Katharine Lee Bates

HONOR to him whose very blood remembers
The old, enchanted dream-song of the Rhine,
Although his house of life. is fair with shine
Of fires new-kindled on the buried embers;

star nullstar nullstar nullstar nullstar null

The Second Booke Of Qvodlibets

© Robert Hayman

Epigrams are much like to Oxymell,
Hony and Vineger compounded well:
Hony, and sweet in their inuention,
Vineger in their reprehension.
As sowre, sweet Oxymell, doth purge though fleagme:
These are to purge Vice, take them as they meane.

star nullstar nullstar nullstar nullstar null

The Modern Patriot

© William Cowper

Rebellion is my theme all day,
I only wish 'twould come
(As who knows but perhaps it may)
A little nearer home.

star nullstar nullstar nullstar nullstar null

Where's Mamma?

© Edgar Albert Guest

Comes in flying from the street;

  "Where's Mamma?"

star nullstar nullstar nullstar nullstar null

A Bill for the Better Promotion of Oppression on the Sabbath Day

© Thomas Love Peacock

Forasmuch as the Canter's and Fanatic's Lord

Sayeth peace and joy are by me abhorred;

star nullstar nullstar nullstar nullstar null

Mr. Hosea Biglow's Speech In March Meeting

© James Russell Lowell

(N.B. Reporters gin'lly git a hint
To make dull orjunces seem 'live in print,
An', ez I hev t' report myself, I vum,
I'll put th' applauses where they'd _ough' to_ come!)

star nullstar nullstar nullstar nullstar null

Churchill's Grave: A Fact Literally Rendered

© George Gordon Byron

I stood beside the grave of him who blazed

  The comet of a season, and I saw

star nullstar nullstar nullstar nullstar null

Carmina Festiva

© Henry Van Dyke

THE LITTLE-NECK CLAM

A modern verse-sequence, showing how a native American subject, strictly realistic, may be treated in various manners adapted to the requirements of different magazines, thus combining Art-for-Art's-Sake with Writing-for-the-Market. Read at the First Dinner of the American Periodical Publishers' Association, in Washington, April, 1904.

star nullstar nullstar nullstar nullstar null

A Dead House

© George MacDonald

When the clock hath ceased to tick

Soul-like in the gloomy hall;

star nullstar nullstar nullstar nullstar null

Bein' Back Home

© Paul Laurence Dunbar

HOME agin, an' home to stay —

Yes, it's nice to be away.

star nullstar nullstar nullstar nullstar null

A Rainy Day in Camp

© Anonymous

Tis a cheerless, lonesome evening
When the soaking, sodden ground
Will not echo to the footfall
of the sentinel's dull round.

star nullstar nullstar nullstar nullstar null

Wait Till Your Pa Comes Home

© Edgar Albert Guest

"Wait till your Pa comes home!" Oh, dear!
What a dreadful threat for a boy to hear.
Yet never a boy of three or four
But has heard it a thousand times or more.
"Wait till your Pa comes home, my lad,
And see what you'll get for being bad,

star nullstar nullstar nullstar nullstar null

The Anarchist.

© Arthur Henry Adams

THE dawn hangs heavy on the distant hill,
The darkness shudders slowly into light;
And from the weary bosom of the night
The pent winds sigh, then sink with horror still.

star nullstar nullstar nullstar nullstar null

Tamar

© Robinson Jeffers

  Grass grows where the flame flowered;
A hollowed lawn strewn with a few black stones
And the brick of broken chimneys; all about there
The old trees, some of them scarred with fire, endure the sea
wind.