Home poems
/ page 295 of 465 /
The Chapel of the Hermits
© John Greenleaf Whittier
"I do believe, and yet, in grief,
I pray for help to unbelief;
For needful strength aside to lay
The daily cumberings of my way.
Bell Birds
© Henry Kendall
By channels of coolness the echoes are calling,
And down the dim gorges I hear the creek falling;
Within and Without: Part III: A Dramatic Poem
© George MacDonald
SCENE I.-Night. London. A large meanly furnished room; a single
candle on the table; a child asleep in a little crib. JULIAN
sits by the table, reading in a low voice out of a book. He looks
older, and his hair is lined with grey; his eyes look clearer.
In Memory: James T. Fields
© John Greenleaf Whittier
As a guest who may not stay
Long and sad farewells to say
Glides with smiling face away,
Old Santeclaus
© Clement Clarke Moore
Old SANTECLAUS with much delight
His reindeer drives this frosty night,
Oer chimney-tops, and tracks of snow,
To bring his yearly gifts to you.
The Victor Of Antietam
© Herman Melville
When tempest winnowed grain from bran;
And men were looking for a man,
Authority called you to the van,
McClellan:
Along the line the plaudit ran,
As later when Antietam's cheers began.
The Golden Key
© George MacDonald
From off the earth the vapours curled,
Went up to meet their joy;
The boy awoke, and all the world
Was waiting for the boy!
On The Neglect Of Homer
© William Cowper
Could Homer come himself, distressed and poor
And tune his harp at Rhedicina's door,
The rich old vixen would exclaim, (I fear,)
"Begone! no tramper gets a farthing here."
Homeward Going
© Roderic Quinn
GRAY smoke in the green leaves,
Someone homeward going,
No sound in the lone hills . . .
Only cattle lowing.
On Station Farewells
© Edgar Albert Guest
IN parting from a dear old friend for months, perhaps, or years,
There's bound to be some bitter sobs, an' generally tears,
Andromeda
© Charles Kingsley
Over the sea, past Crete, on the Syrian shore to the southward,
Dwells in the well-tilled lowland a dark-haired AEthiop people,
The Prisoner
© Emily Jane Brontë
STILL let my tyrants know, I am not doom'd to wear
Year after year in gloom and desolate despair;
A messenger of Hope comes every night to me,
And offers for short life, eternal liberty.
Ascension Day
© John Keble
Soft cloud, that while the breeze of May
Chants her glad matins in the leafy arch,
Draw'st thy bright veil across the heavenly way
Meet pavement for an angel's glorious march:
Gotham - Book III
© Charles Churchill
Can the fond mother from herself depart?
Can she forget the darling of her heart,
The Arabs Faerwell To His Horse
© Caroline Norton
Yes, thou must go! the wild free breeze, the brilliant sun and sky,
Thy master's home--from all of these, my exiled one must fly.
Thy proud dark eye will grow less proud, thy step become less fleet,
And vainly shalt thou arch thy neck, thy master's hand to meet.
Only in sleep shall I behold that dark eye, glancing bright
Only in sleep shall hear again that step so firm and light:
Lady Constance
© Sydney Thompson Dobell
My Love, my Lord,
I think the toil of glorious day is done.
I see thee leaning on thy jewelled sword,
And a light-hearted child of France
Is dancing to thee in the sun,
And thus he carols in his dance.
