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Songs of the Winter Nights
© George MacDonald
Back shining from the pane, the fire
Seems outside in the snow:
So love set free from love's desire
Lights grief of long ago.
The Church-Porch. Perirrhanterium
© George Herbert
Thou, whose sweet youth and early hopes inhance
Thy rate and price, and mark thee for a treasure,
Hearken unto a Vesper, who may chance
Ryme thee to good, and make a bait of pleasure:
A verse may finde him who a sermon flies,
And turn delight into a sacrifice.
Centennial
© John Hay
A hundred times the bells of Brown
Have rung to sleep the idle summers,
And still to-day clangs clamoring down
A greeting to the welcome comers.
The Gathering of the Brown-Eyed
© Henry Lawson
THE BROWN EYES came from Asia, where all mystery is true,
Ere the masters of Soul Secrets dreamed of hazel, grey, and blue;
And the Brown Eyes came to Egypt, which is called the gypsies home,
And the Brown Eyes went from Egypt and Jerusalem to Rome.
The Columbiad: Book IV
© Joel Barlow
Yet must we mark, the bondage of the mind
Spreads deeper glooms, and subj ugates mankind;
The zealots fierce, whom local creeds enrage,
In holy feuds perpetual combat wage,
Support all crimes by full indulgence given,
Usurp the power and wield the sword of heaven,
The Flight of Peace
© Charles Harpur
TRUST and Treachery, Wisdom, Folly,
Madness, Mirth and Melancholy,
Love and Hatred, Thrift and Pillage,
All are housed in one small village.
Commination
© John Keble
The prayers are o'er: why slumberest thou so long,
Thou voice of sacred song?
Spirit And Star.
© James Brunton Stephens
THROUGH the bleak cold voids, through the wilds of space,
Trackless and starless, forgotten of grace,
A Single Hound
© William Henry Ogilvie
When the opal lights in the West had died
And night was wrapping the red ferns round,
As I came home by the woodland side
I heard the cry of a single hound.
Had I the Choice
© Walt Whitman
Had I the choice to tally greatest bards,
To limn their portraits, stately, beautiful, and emulate at will,
Greeks
© Gamaliel Bradford
You really can't imagine how I love the ancient Greeks.
I love the dancing language where their mobile spirit speaks.
I love the songs of Homer, flowing on like streams of light,
With a touch of human kindness in the splendid shock of fight.
Malcolm's Katie: A Love Story - Part VI.
© Isabella Valancy Crawford
"Who curseth Sorrow knows her not at all.
Dark matrix she, from which the human soul
Tale VI
© George Crabbe
need,
For habit told when all things should proceed;
Few their amusements, but when friends appear'd,
They with the world's distress their spirits
Ballade Of The Midnight Forest
© Andrew Lang
Prince, let us leave the din, the dust, the spite,
The gloom and glare of towns, the plague, the blight:
Amid the forest leaves and fountain spray
There is the mystic home of our delight,
And through the dim wood Dian threads her way.
"If I am to know how to restrain your hands"
© Osip Emilevich Mandelstam
If I am to know how to restrain your hands,
If I am to betray the tender, salty lips,
I must wait for daybreak in the dense acropolis.
How I hate those ancient weeping timbers .
The Railroad
© Elizabeth Daryush
Along the iron rails
Plod still with panting power,
Range still the empty trails
Hour after hour;
Birds' Nests
© Edward Thomas
he summer nests uncovered by autumn wind,
Some torn, others dislodged, all dark,
Everyone sees them: low or high in tree,
Or hedge, or single bush, they hang like a mark.
Tales Of A Wayside Inn : Part 3. Prelude
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Amid the hospitable glow,
Like an old actor on the stage,
With the uncertain voice of age,
The singing chimney chanted low
The homely songs of long ago.
