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The Zenana
© Letitia Elizabeth Landon
And fragrant though the flowers are breathing,
From far and near together wreathing,
They are not those she used to wear,
Upon the midnight of her hair.
The earth had transformed the oaks (Canti di Milosao, excerpt from canto l)
© Jeronim de Rada
The earth had transformed the oaks,
Fresh sea water sparkled
Interior
© William Ernest Henley
The gaunt brown walls
Look infinite in their decent meanness.
There is nothing of home in the noisy kettle,
The fulsome fire.
Hudibras: Part 2 - Canto II
© Samuel Butler
Quoth RALPHO, Honour's but a word
To swear by only in a Lord:
In other men 'tis but a huff,
To vapour with instead of proof;
That, like a wen, looks big and swells,
Is senseless, and just nothing else.
The Lay of the Laborer
© Thomas Hood
A spade! a rake! a hoe!
A pickaxe, or a bill!
A hook to reap, or a scythe to mow,
A flail, or what ye will
Of The Nature Of Things: Book VI - Part 03 - Extraordinary And Paradoxical Telluric Phenomena
© Lucretius
In chief, men marvel nature renders not
Bigger and bigger the bulk of ocean, since
The Story Of A Soul.
© James Brunton Stephens
WHO can say "Thus far, no farther," to the tide of his own nature?
Who can mould the spirit's fashion to the counsel of his will?
Mute Discourse.
© James Brunton Stephens
GOD speaks by silence. Voice-dividing man,
Who cannot triumph but he saith, Aha
Mystic and Cavalier
© Lionel Pigot Johnson
GO from me: I am one of those who fall.
What! hath no cold wind swept your heart at all,
Told By "The Noted Traveler"
© James Whitcomb Riley
Even so had they wrought all ways
To earn the pennies, and hoard them, too,--
And with what ultimate end in view?--
They were saving up money enough to be
Able, in time, to buy their own
Five children back.
There Is Still Splendour
© Robert Laurence Binyon
O when will life taste clean again? For the air
Is fouled: the world sees, hears; and each day brings
Vile fume that would corrupt eternal things,
Were they corruptible. Harsh trumpets blare
Home--Coming
© Robert Laurence Binyon
From the howl of the wind
As I opened the door
And entered, the firelight
Was soft on the floor.
At A House In Hampstead Sometime The Dwelling Of John Keats
© Thomas Hardy
O poet, come you haunting here
Where streets have stolen up all around,
And never a nightingale pours one
Full-throated sound?
The Muses Threnodie: First Muse
© Henry Adamson
Of Mr George Ruthven the tears and mournings,
Amidst the giddie course of fortune's turnings,
Upon his dear friend's death, Mr John Gall,
Where his rare ornaments bear a part, and wretched Gabions all.
Right Of Way
© Henry Herbert Knibbs
"Save your hoss for the hills ahead," is the cowboy's placid song.
While his clear eyes follow the twinkling train as the Titan speeds along;
A Reed Shaken In The Wind
© Madison Julius Cawein
To say to hope,--Take all from me,
And grant me naught:
The rose, the song, the melody,
The word, the thought:
Then all my life bid me be slave,--
Is all I crave.
A Childs Treasures
© Rosanna Eleanor Leprohon
Thou art home at last, my darling one,
Flushed and tired with thy play,
Winter Cares
© Kristijonas Donelaitis
"Of course, the fire consumes a lot of kindling wood,
When we warm up the house or cook a boiling pot.
Just think what kind of food we'd have to eat each day,
If there were no wood to burn and no helpful fire.
We'd have naught but sodden, sour swill to eat, like swine.
The Drums of Ages
© Henry Lawson
DRUMS of all thats right and wrongof love and hate and scorn,
And the new-born baby hears them and it wails when it is born.
Drums of all that is to be, and all that has gone by,
And we hear them when were dreaming, and we hear them while we die.
