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Tales Of A Wayside Inn : Part 3. The Musician's Tale; The Mother's Ghost
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Svend Dyring he rideth adown the glade;
I myself was young!
Invocation To Misery
© Percy Bysshe Shelley
I.
Come, be happy!sit near me,
Shadow-vested Misery:
Coy, unwilling, silent bride,
Mourning in thy robe of pride,
Desolationdeified!
America Politica Historia, in Spontaneity
© Gregory Corso
O this political air so heavy with the bells
and motors of a slow night, and no place to rest
Elegy for a Soldier
© Marilyn Hacker
You, who stood alone in the tall bay window
of a Brooklyn brownstone, conjuring morning
with free-flying words, knew the power, terror
in words, in flying;
The Banished Spirit's Song
© Denis Florence MacCarthy
Beautiful clime, where I've dwelt so long,
In mirth and music, in gladness and song!
Fairer than aught upon earth art thou-
Beautiful clime, must I leave thee now?
Ode XVIII: To The Right Honourable Francis Earl Of Huntington
© Mark Akenside
I. 2.
Nor less prevailing is their charm
The vengeful bosom to disarm;
To melt the proud with human woe,
And prompt unwilling tears to flow.
The Princess: Home they Brought her Warrior Dead
© Alfred Tennyson
Home they brought her warrior dead:
She nor swoon'd nor utter'd cry:
All her maidens, watching, said,
"She must weep or she will die."
The Wood-Cutter's Night Song
© John Clare
Welcome, red and roundy sun,
Dropping lowly in the west;
Now my hard day's work is done,
I'm as happy as the best.
Scrambled Eggs and Whiskey
© Hayden Carruth
Scrambled eggs and whiskey
in the false-dawn light. Chicago,
Marenghi
© Percy Bysshe Shelley
II.
A massy tower yet overhangs the town,
A scattered group of ruined dwellings now...
Hymn to Life
© James Schuyler
The wind rests its cheek upon the ground and feels the cool damp
And lifts its head with twigs and small dead blades of grass
Old Men Playing Basketball
© Boris Pasternak
The heavy bodies lunge, the broken language
of fake and drive, glamorous jump shot
slowed to a stutter. Their gestures, in love
again with the pure geometry of curves,
Sonnet LXXXVII: Farewell! thou art too dear for my possessing
© William Shakespeare
Farewell! thou art too dear for my possessing,
And like enough thou knowst thy estimate.
Poems - Written On The Deaths Of Three Lovely Children
© Jean Ingelow
Yellow leaves, how fast they flutter-woodland hollows thickly strewing,
Where the wan October sunbeams scantly in the mid-day win,
While the dim gray clouds are drifting, and in saddened hues imbuing
All without and all within!
Like Brothers We Meet
© George Moses Horton
Dedicated to the Federal and Late Confederate Soldiers
Like heart-loving brothers we meet,
Ancestor
© James Russell Lowell
It was a time when they were afraid of him.
My father, a bare man, a gypsy, a horse
Rich And Poor
© Rosanna Eleanor Leprohon
Neath the radiance faint of the starlit sky
The gleaming snow-drifts lay wide and high;
Oer hill and dell stretched a mantle white,
The branches glittered with crystal bright;
But the winter winds keen icy breath
Was merciless, numbing and chill as death.
Glory
© Robert Pinsky
Pindar, poet of the victories, fitted names
And legends into verses for the chorus to sing:
Names recalled now only in the poems of Pindar:
