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Written On Cramond Beach
© Frances Anne Kemble
Farewell, old playmate! on thy sandy shore
My lingering feet will leave their print no more;
Forest History
© George Meredith
Beneath the vans of doom did men pass in.
Heroic who came out; for round them hung
A wavering phantom's red volcano tongue,
With league-long lizard tail and fishy fin:
The Barberry-Bush
© Jones Very
The bush that has most briers and bitter fruit
Waits till the frost has turned its green leaves red,
The Wind And The Whirlwind
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
I have a thing to say. But how to say it?
I have a cause to plead. But to what ears?
How shall I move a world by lamentation,
A world which heeded not a Nation's tears?
An Epistle To Joseph Hill, Esq.
© William Cowper
Dear Joseph,-- five and twenty years ago--
Alas! how time escapes -- 'tis even so!--
Richard Corey
© Edwin Arlington Robinson
WHENEVER Richard Cory went down town,
We people on the pavement looked at him:
He was a gentleman from sole to crown,
Clean favored, and imperially slim.
An Experiment In Translation
© Alfred Austin
Blest husbandmen! if they but knew their bliss!
For whom, from war remote, fair-minded Earth
Guns At The Front
© Robert Laurence Binyon
Man, simple and brave, easily confiding,
Giving his all, glad of the sun's sweetness,
Heeding little of pitiful incompleteness,
Mending life with laughter and cheerful chiding,
The Grave Of Howard
© William Lisle Bowles
Spirit of Death! whose outstretched pennons dread
Wave o'er the world beneath their shadow spread;
Tom's Garland: Upon the Unemployed
© Gerard Manley Hopkins
Tomgarlanded with squat and surly steel
Tom; then Tom's fallowbootfellow piles pick
Italy : 36. The Nun
© Samuel Rogers
'Tis over; and her lovely cheek is now
On her hard pillow -- there, alas, to be
Nightly, through many and many a dreary hour,
Wan, often wet with tears, and (ere at length
The Chamois Hunter's Love
© Felicia Dorothea Hemans
Thy heart is in the upper world, where fleet the chamois bounds;
Thy heart is where the mountain-fir shakes to the torrent-sounds;
And where the snow-peaks gleam like stars, through the stillness of the air,
And where the Lauwine's peal is heart - Hunter! thy heart is there!
Fifth Sunday In Lent
© John Keble
The historic Muse, from age to age,
Through many a waste heart-sickening page
Hath traced the works of Man:
But a celestial call to-day
Stays her, like Moses, on her way,
The works of God to scan.
Love 20¢ The First Quarter Mile
© Kenneth Fearing
Because I forgive you, yes, for everything.
I forgive you for being beautiful and generous and wise,
I forgive you, to put it simply, for being alive, and pardon you, in short, for being you.
Weary
© Dora Sigerson Shorter
Here, in the silent churchyard, 'mid a thousand dead, alone,
Weary I sit for a moment clasping this cross of stone,
