Home poems
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The Size
© George Herbert
Content thee, greedie heart.
Modest and moderate joyes to those, that have
Title to more hereafter when they part,
Are passing brave.
Let th' upper springs into the low
Descend and fall, and thou dost flow.
A Song Of Impossibilities
© Winthrop Mackworth Praed
LADY, I loved you all last year,
How honestly and well --
Ulster 1912
© Rudyard Kipling
"Their webs shall not become garments, neither shall they cover themselves with their works: their works are works of inquity and the act of violence is in their hands." - Isaiah lix. 6.
De Bell Of St. Michel
© William Henry Drummond
Go 'way, go 'way, don't ring no more, ole bell of Saint Michel,
For if you do, I can't stay here, you know dat very well,
No matter how I close ma ear, I can't shut out de soun',
It rise so high 'bove all de noise of dis beeg Yankee town.
The Waiting Head
© Anne Sexton
If I really am walking with ordinary habit
past the same rest home on the same local street
Nature The Consoler
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
GLADLY I hail these solitudes, and breathe
The inspiring breath of the fresh woodland air,
Most gladly to the past alone bequeath
Doubt, grief, and care;
Lara. A Tale
© George Gordon Byron
Proud Otho on the instant, reddening, threw
His glove on earth, and forth his sabre flew.
"The last alternative befits me best,
And thus I answer for mine absent guest."
The Mountain Of The Lovers
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
I.
LOVE scorns degrees! the low he lifteth high,
The high he draweth down to that fair plain
Whereon, in his divine equality,
After A Lecture On Wordsworth
© Oliver Wendell Holmes
COME, spread your wings, as I spread mine,
And leave the crowded hall
For where the eyes of twilight shine
O'er evening's western wall.
'The Aeneid of Virgil: Book 6
© Publius Vergilius Maro
HE said, and wept; then spread his sails before
The winds, and reachd at length the Cumæan shore:
King Bibler's Army
© Henry Clay Work
It was ten years ago when the belle of the village
Gave here her hand to the young millionaire,
To A Lady, Who Invited The Author Into The Country.
© Mary Barber
I grieve your Brother has the Gout;
Tho' he's so stoically stout,
I've heard him mourn his Loss of Pain,
And wish it in his Feet again.
What Woe poor Mortals must endure,
When Anguish is their only Cure!
The Borough. Letter I
© George Crabbe
"DESCRIBE the Borough"--though our idle tribe
May love description, can we so describe,
The Common Grave
© Sydney Thompson Dobell
Last night beneath the foreign stars I stood
And saw the thoughts of those at home go by
Through Liberty To Light
© Alfred Austin
Fixed is my Faith, the lingering dawn despite,
That still we move through Liberty to Light.
The Human Tragedy.
Pioneers
© William Henry Drummond
If dey 're walkin' on de roadside, an' dey 're bote in love togeder,
An' de star of spring is shinin' wit' de young moon in between,
It was purty easy guessin' dey 're not talkin' of de wedder,
W'en de boy is comin' twenty, an' de girl is jus' eighteen.
