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A Picture Of Husbandry
© Confucius
The plants will ear; within their sheath confined,
The grains will harden, and be good in kind.
Nor darnel these, nor wolf's-tail grass infests;
Patriotism.
© Robert Crawford
We die for home and country; dying thus,
The welfare of our land shall live with us.
Home From The Wars
© George MacDonald
A tattered soldier, gone the glow and gloss,
With wounds half healed, and sorely trembling knee,
Homeward I come, to claim no victory-cross:
I only faced the foe, and did not flee.
The Talking Oak
© Alfred Tennyson
Once more the gate behind me falls;
Once more before my face
I see the moulder'd Abbey-walls,
That stand within the chace.
The Four Seasons : Winter
© James Thomson
See, Winter comes, to rule the varied year,
Sullen and sad, with all his rising train;
Vapours, and clouds, and storms. Be these my theme,
These! that exalt the soul to solemn thought,
Dora
© Charles Harpur
Im happy now in thinking how happy I was then,
When towards the glowing west my love went homeward down the glen;
Went homeward down the glen, while my comfort surer grew,
Till methought the old-faced hills at looked as they were happy too.
Breitmann In Holland. Scheveningen, Or De Maidens Coorse
© Charles Godfrey Leland
HET vas Mijn Heer van Torenborg,
Ride oud oopon de sand,
Und vait to hear a paardeken;
Coom tromplin from de land.
To a Little Maid - by a Politician
© William Schwenck Gilbert
Come with me, little maid,
Nay, shrink not, thus afraid -
An Appeal For "The Old South"
© Oliver Wendell Holmes
"While stands the Coliseum, Rome shall stand;
When falls the Coliseum, Rome shall fall."
The Danish Boy
© William Wordsworth
I
BETWEEN two sister moorland rills
There is a spot that seems to lie
Sacred to flowerets of the hills,
A Ballad Of The Two Knights
© Sara Teasdale
Two knights rode forth at early dawn
A-seeking maids to wed,
Said one, "My lady must be fair,
With gold hair on her head."
Inscriptions: III: Whoe'er Thou Art Whose Pat In Summer Lies
© Mark Akenside
Whoe'er thou art whose path in summer lies
Through yonder village, turn thee where the grove
The Spirit Of Discovery By Sea - Book The Fourth
© William Lisle Bowles
O'er my poor ANNA'S lowly grave
No dirge shall sound, no knell shall ring;
But angels, as the high pines wave,
Their half-heard "Miserere" sing.
At Last
© John Greenleaf Whittier
When on my day of life the night is falling,
And, in the winds from unsunned spaces blown,
I hear far voices out of darkness calling
My feet to paths unknown,
The Headless Trooper.
© James Brunton Stephens
NO; not another step, for all
The troopers out of hell!
