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A Rolling Stone Gathers No Moss
© Harry Graham
I'd sooner gather anything,
Like primroses, or news perhaps,
Or even wool (when suffering
A momentary mental lapse);
But could forego my share of moss,
Nor ever realize the loss.
Bud
© Edgar Albert Guest
Who is it lives to the full every minute,
Gets all the joy and the fun that is in it?
The Prisoner
© Dora Sigerson Shorter
All day I lie beneath the great pine tree,
Whose perfumed branches wave and shadow me.
The Broken Pitcher
© William Edmondstoune Aytoun
It was a Moorish maiden was sitting by a well,
And what the maiden thought of, I cannot, cannot, tell,
When by there rode a valiant knight from the town of Oviedo,
Alphonso Guzman was he hight, the Count of Tololedo.
"I Was A Stranger, And Ye Took Me In"
© John Greenleaf Whittier
'Neath skies that winter never knew
The air was full of light and balm,
And warm and soft the Gulf wind blew
Through orange bloom and groves of palm.
The Force of Argument
© William Schwenck Gilbert
Lord B. was a nobleman bold
Who came of illustrious stocks,
He was thirty or forty years old,
And several feet in his socks.
Hyperion, A Vision: Attempted Reconstruction Of The Poem
© John Keats
"With such remorseless speed still come new woes,
That unbelief has not a space to breathe.
Saturn! sleep on: me thoughtless, why should I
Thus violate thy slumbrous solitude?
Why should I ope thy melancholy eyes?
Saturn! sleep on, while at thy feet I weep."
Ye Wives Who Scold & Fishes Sell
© Thomas Parnell
Ye Wives who scold & fishes sell,
Or sing & sell your fruit,
Ode To A Butterfly
© Thomas Wentworth Higginson
Thou spark of life that wavest wings of gold,
Thou songless wanderer mid the songful birds,
The Departure of Summer
© Thomas Hood
Summer is gone on swallows' wings,
And Earth has buried all her flowers:
No more the lark,the linnetsings,
But Silence sits in faded bowers.
Procession I - Hanging day
© Wole Soyinka
Hanging day.
A hollow earth
Echoes footsteps of the grave procession.
Walls in sunspots
Lean to shadow of the shortening morn.
Song For A Highland Drover Returning From England
© Robert Bloomfield
Now fare-thee-well, England; no further I'll roam;
But follow my shadow that points the way home;
Your gay southern Shores shall not tempt me to stay;
For my Maggy's at Home, and my Children at play!
Tis this makes my Bonnet set light on my brow,
Gives my sinews their strength and my bosom its glow.
Battle
© Robert Nichols
It is midday; the deep trench glares….
A buzz and blaze of flies….
The hot wind puffs the giddy airs….
The great sun rakes the skies.
A Simile
© William Shenstone
What village but has sometimes seen
The clumsy shape, the frightful mien,
On Board The '76
© James Russell Lowell
Our ship lay tumbling in an angry sea,
Her rudder gone, her mainmast o'er the side;
Her scuppers, from the waves' clutch staggering free,
Trailed threads of priceless crimson through the tide;
Sails, shrouds, and spars with pirate cannon torn,
We lay, awaiting morn.
Vision of Columbus Book 2
© Joel Barlow
High o'er the changing scene, as thus he gazed,
The indulgent Power his arm sublimely raised;
The Violet
© Jones Very
Thou tellest truths unspoken yet by man
By this thy lonely home and modest look;
