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/ page 82 of 465 /The Shepherd's Week : Saturday; or, The Flights
© John Gay
Bowzybeus.
Sublimer strains, O rustic muse, prepare;
Home Truths for Varuss girl: to Varus
© Gaius Valerius Catullus
Varus drags me into his affairs
out of the Forum, where Im seen idling:
Pro Patria
© William Henry Drummond
An' soon deres comin', all dress to kill,
Beeg feller from far away,
Shoutin' lak devil on top de hill,
An' dis is de t'ing he say--
On The Death Of Pushkin
© Mikhail Lermontov
"Hence is he, hence! His song out-rung,
The Singer even as the song he sung;
Who of a hot, heroic mood,
In death disgraceful shed his blood!"
The Grammarians Funeral
© Benjamin Tompson
Eight Parts of Speech this Day wear Mourning Gowns
Declin'd Verbs, Pronouns, Participles, Nouns.
After Drafting
© Roderic Quinn
NIGHT has fallen, night and darkness,
Night with star and planet splendid;
And the earth lies like a giant
Wrapt in sleep, with limbs extended.
Idyll XXIX. Loves
© Theocritus
Mindful of this, be gentle, is my prayer,
And love me, guileless, ev'n as I love thee;
So when thou has a beard, such friends as were
Achilles and Patroclus we may be."
Romancin'
© James Whitcomb Riley
I' b'en a-kindo musin', as the feller says, and I'm
About o' the conclusion that they ain't no better time,
When you come to cipher on it, than the times we used to know
When we swore our first "dog-gone-it" sorto solem'-like and low!
Elegy I. To Charles Deodati (Translated From Milton)
© William Cowper
At length, my friend, the far-sent letters come,
Charged with thy kindness, to their destin'd home,
Consolation
© William Taylor Collins
How agreeable it is not to be touring Italy this summer,
wandering her cities and ascending her torrid hilltowns.
How much better to cruise these local, familiar streets,
fully grasping the meaning of every roadsign and billboard
and all the sudden hand gestures of my compatriots.
A Brother In Need
© Henrik Johan Ibsen
NOW, rallying once if ne'er again,
With flag at half-mast flown,
In The Winter Woods
© Frederick George Scott
WINTER forests mutely standing
Naked on your bed of snow,
Wide your knotted arms expanding
To the biting winds that blow,
Nought ye heed of storm or stress,
Stubborn, silent, passionless.
Song Composed For Washington's Birthday
© Henry Timrod
A hundred years and more ago
A little child was born -
To-day, with pomp of martial show,
We hail his natal morn.
Aurora Leigh: Book Seventh
© Elizabeth Barrett Browning
I broke on Marian there. "Yet she herself,
A wife, I think, had scandals of her own,-
A lover not her husband."
A Voyager's Dream Of Land
© Felicia Dorothea Hemans
The hollow dash of waves!–the ceaseless roar!
Silence, ye billows! vex my soul no more.
The Banshee
© John Todhunter
She keens, and the strings of her wild harp shiver
On the gusts of night:
O'er the four waters she keens-over Moyle she keens,
O'er the Sea of Milith, and the Strait of Strongbow,
And the Ocean of Columbus.
The Cry Of The People
© Wilcox Ella Wheeler
Fire! Fire! Fire! the cry rang out on the night air,
The roving winds caught it up, and the very heavens resounded.
Louder and louder still, by voices grown hoarse with terror,
The cry went up and out and a nation stood still to listen.
Recollections Of A Dreamland
© James Clerk Maxwell
Rouse ye! torpid daylight-dreamers, cast your carking cares away!
As calm air to troubled water, so my night is to your day;
All the dreary day you labour, groping after common sense,
And your eyes ye will not open on the night's magnificence.
Ye would scow were I to tell you how a guiding radiance gleams
On the outer world of action from my inner world of dreams.
The Pleasures of Memory - Part II.
© Samuel Rogers
Sweet Memory, wafted by thy gentle gale,
Oft up the stream of Time I turn my sail,
To view the fairy-haunts of long-lost hours.
Blest with far greener shades, far fresher flowers.