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/ page 205 of 465 /The Temple of Fame
© Alexander Pope
In that soft season, when descending show'rs
Call forth the greens, and wake the rising flow'rs;
To The Memory Of Hood
© James Russell Lowell
Another star 'neath Time's horizon dropped,
To gleam o'er unknown lands and seas;
Another heart that beat for freedom stopped,--
What mournful words are these!
Mr. William Crowes Address To Her Majesty, Turned Into Metre
© Jonathan Swift
From a town that consists of a church and a steeple,
With three or four houses, and as many people,
There went an Address in great form and good order,
Composed, as 'tis said, by Will Crowe, their Recorder.
The Australian Bell-Bird
© Jean Ingelow
And 'Oyez, Oyez' following after me
On my great errand to the sundown went.
Lost, lost, and lost, whenas the cross road flee
Up tumbled hills, on each for eyes attent
A carriage creepeth.
Grammarye
© John Kenyon
"Argantyr! awakeawake
Hervor bids thy slumbers fly.
Magic chords around thee break;
Argantyr! replyreply."
It Was A Famous Victory
© Franklin Pierce Adams
It was a summer evening;
Old Kaspar was at home,
Sitting before his cottage door-
Like in the Southey pome-
And near him, with a magazine,
Idled his grandchild, Geraldine.
The Pine Forest Of The Cascine Near Pisa
© Percy Bysshe Shelley
We wandered to the Pine Forest
That skirts the Ocean's foam,
The lightest wind was in its nest,
The tempest in its home.
The Christian Tourists
© John Greenleaf Whittier
No aimless wanderers, by the fiend Unrest
Goaded from shore to shore;
No schoolmen, turning, in their classic quest,
The leaves of empire o'er.
The Home Builders
© Edgar Albert Guest
The world is filled with bustle and with selfishness and greed,
It is filled with restless people that are dreaming of a deed.
Charms of Precedence - A Tale
© William Shenstone
"Sir, will you please to walk before?"-
"No, pray, Sir-you are next the door."-
A New Heaven (To-On Active Service)
© Wilfred Owen
-Let's die home, ferry across the Channel! Thus
Shall we live gods there. Death shall be no sev'rance.
Weary cathedrals light new shrines for us.
To us, rough knees of boys shall ache with rev'rence.
Are not girls' breasts a clear, strong Acropole?
-There our oun mothers' tears shall heal us whole.
The Belfry Of Bruges
© Robert Laurence Binyon
Keen comes the dizzy air
In one tumultuous breath.
The tower to heaven lies bare;
Dumb stir the streets beneath.
Sweet William's Ghost
© Thomas Percy
There came a ghost to Margaret's door,
With many a grievous grone,
And ay he tirled at the pin;
But answer made she none.
'Snapdragon' a Riddle for a Flower Book
© John Henry Newman
I am rooted in the wall
Of buttress'd tower or ancient hall;
Prison'd in an art-wrought bed.
Cased in mortar, cramp'd with lead;
Of a living stock alone
Brother of the lifeless stone.
To The Art of Edgar Degas
© David Campbell
Beachcomber on the shores of tears
Limning the gestures of defeat
In dancers, whores, and opera-stars
The lonely, lighted various street
Rip Van Winkle. Canto I.
© Oliver Wendell Holmes
OLD Rip Van Winkle had a grandson, Rip,
Of the paternal block a genuine chip,âÂ
A lazy, sleepy, curious kind of chap;
He, like his grandsire, took a mighty nap,
Whereof the story I propose to tell
In two brief cantos, if you listen well.
Jenifer's Love
© Sir Arthur Quiller-Couch
Small is my secret-let it pass-
Small in your life the share I had,
Who sat beside you in the class,
Awed by the bright superior lad:
Whom yet with hot and eager face
I prompted when he missed his place.
To Pennsylvania
© John Greenleaf Whittier
O STATE prayer-founded! never hung
Such choice upon a people's tongue,
Such power to bless or ban,
As that which makes thy whisper Fate,
A day 8 Years Ago (At bachar ager Ekadin)
© Jibanananda Das
It was heard
They took him to the morgue.
Last night in the February dark
When the crescent moon, five days toward full, had set
He'd had the urge to die.