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Don Juan: Canto The Fourteenth

© George Gordon Byron

If from great nature's or our own abyss

  Of thought we could but snatch a certainty,

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Artemis In Sierra

© Francis Bret Harte

Halt!  Here we are.  Now wheel your mare a trifle
  Just where you stand; then doff your hat and swear
Never yet was scene you might cover with your rifle
  Half as complete or as marvelously fair.

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O, Falmouth Is a Fine Town

© William Ernest Henley

In Baltimore a-walking a lady I did meet
With her babe on her arm as she came down the street;
And I thought how I sailed, and the cradle standing ready
For the pretty little babe that has never seen its daddie.
  And it's home, dearie, home,-

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The Three Kings

© Edith Nesbit

WHEN the star in the East was lit to shine

The three kings journeyed to Palestine;

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Marathon

© Richard Monckton Milnes

I could believe that under such a sky,
Thus grave, thus streaked with thunderlight, of yore,
The small Athenian troop rushed onward, more
As Bacchanals, than men about to die.

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The Pleasures of Memory - Part I.

© Samuel Rogers

Twilight's soft dews steal o'er the village-green,
With magic tints to harmonize the scene.
Still'd is the hum that thro' the hamlet broke,
When round the ruins of their antient oak

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The Voyage of Telegonus

© Henry Kendall

Ill fares it with the man whose lips are set

To bitter themes and words that spite the gods;

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The Pennsylvania Pilgrim

© John Greenleaf Whittier

The Pennsylvania Pilgrim
Never in tenderer quiet lapsed the day
From Pennsylvania's vales of spring away,
Where, forest-walled, the scattered hamlets lay

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Fiesta Melons

© Sylvia Plath

In Benidorm there are melons,

Whole donkey-carts full

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Love's History

© George MacDonald

Love, the baby,
Crept abroad to pluck a flower:
One said, Yes, sir; one said, Maybe;
One said, Wait the hour.

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The Wanderer Looking Into Other Homes

© Caroline Norton

A LONE, wayfaring wretch I saw, who stood
Wearily pausing by the wicket gate;
And from his eyes there streamed a bitter flood,
Contrasting his with many a happier fate.

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A Sicilian Idyll

© Thomas Sturge Moore

Cydilla
Thanks, Damon; now, by Zeus, thou art so brisk,
It shames me that to stoop should try my bones.

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Surprise

© Ted Hughes

Looking at cows in their high-roofy roomy
Windy home, mid-afternoon idling,
Late winter, near spring, the fields not greening,
The wind North-East and sickening, the hay

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Homage To Sextus Propertius - XI

© Ezra Pound

1
The harsh acts of your levity!
Many and many.
I am hung here, a scare-crow for lovers.

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The Ballad of the Rousabout

© Henry Lawson

Some take the track for faith in men—some take the track for doubt—
Some flee a squalid home to work their own salvation out.
Some dared not see a mother’s tears nor meet a father’s face—
Born of good Christian families some leap, head-long, from Grace.

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My Way

© Anna Akhmatova

One goes in straightforward ways,
One in a circle roams:
Waits for a girl of his gone days,
Or for returning home.

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Unser Gott

© Karle Wilson Baker


(Yea, "Unser Gott! Our strength is Unser Gott!
Not that light-minded Bon Dieu of France!")

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Annie Of Tharaw. (From The Low German Of Simon Dach)

© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

This turns to a heaven the hut where we dwell;
While wrangling soon changes a home to a hell.

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Douro

© Robert Laurence Binyon

The dripping of the boughs in silence heard
Softly; the low note of some lingering bird
Amid the weeping vapour; the chill fall
Of solitary evening upon all

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The Bechuana Boy

© Thomas Pringle

 I sat at noontide in my tent,

  And looked across the Desert dun,