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The Splendour And The Curse Of Song
© George Essex Evans
Methought the unknown God we seek in vain
Grew weary of the evil He had wrought
Pine Trees
© Robert Laurence Binyon
Down through the heart of the dim woods
The laden, jolting waggons come.
Tall pines, chained together,
They carry; stems straight and bare,
Inversnaid
© Govinda Krishna Chettur
This darksome burn, horseback brown,
His rollrock highroad roaring down,
In coop and in comb the fleece of his foam
Flutes and low to the lake falls home.
Eclogue
© John Donne
ALLOPHANES FINDING IDIOS IN THE COUNTRY IN
CHRISTMAS TIME, REPREHENDS HIS ABSENCE
FROM COURT, AT THE MARRIAGE OF THE EARL
OF SOMERSET ; IDIOS GIVES AN ACCOUNT OF
HIS PURPOSE THEREIN, AND OF HIS ACTIONS
THERE.
Drafted
© Edgar Albert Guest
The biggest moment in our lives was that when first he cried,
From that day unto this, for him, we've struggled side by side.
We can recount his daily deeds, and backwards we can look,
And proudly live again the time when first a step he took.
The Old Song
© Dora Sigerson Shorter
When I was a young lad of happy sixteen
There came to my window the Cushla-mo chree,
The Pastime of Pleasure: Of dysposycyon the II. parte of rethoryke - (til line 4920)
© Stephen Hawes
The copy of the letter. Ca. xxxi.
3951 Right gentyll herte of grene flourynge age
3952 The sterre of beaute and of famous porte
3953 Consyder well that your lusty courage
The Song Of Hiawatha XXII: Hiawatha's Departure
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
O'er the water floating, flying,
Something in the hazy distance,
Something in the mists of morning,
Loomed and lifted from the water,
Now seemed floating, now seemed flying,
Coming nearer, nearer, nearer.
Second Sunday After Easter
© John Keble
O for a sculptor's hand,
That thou might'st take thy stand,
Thy wild hair floating on the eastern breeze,
Thy tranced yet open gaze
Fixed on the desert haze,
As one who deep in heaven some airy pageant sees.
An Inscription
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
At this fair oak table sat
Whilom he our Laureate,
Poet, handicraftsman, sage,
Light of our Victorian age,
I Stood Tip-Toe Upon A Little Hill
© John Keats
I stood tip-toe upon a little hill,
The air was cooling, and so very still,
That the sweet buds which with a modest pride
Pull droopingly, in slanting curve aside,
Quatrains Of Life
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
What has my youth been that I love it thus,
Sad youth, to all but one grown tedious,
Stale as the news which last week wearied us,
Or a tired actor's tale told to an empty house?
The Emperor's Glove. (Birds Of Passage. Flight The Fifth)
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
On St. Bavon's tower, commanding
Half of Flanders, his domain,
Charles the Emperor once was standing,
While beneath him on the landing
Stood Duke Alva and his train.
Death Of Captain Cooke,
© William Lisle Bowles
OF "THE BELLEROPHON," KILLED IN THE SAME BATTLE.
When anxious Spain, along her rocky shore,
Ations
© Sheldon Allan Silverstein
If we meet and I say, "Hi,"
That's a salutation.
If you ask me how I feel,
That's a consideration.
