Raise it to Heaven, when thine eye fills with tears,
For only in a watery sky appears
The bow of light; and from th' invisible skies
Hope's glory shines not, save through weeping eyes.

The Hunting of the Snark

© Lewis Carroll

"Just the place for a Snark!" the Bellman cried,
As he landed his crew with care;
Supporting each man on the top of the tide
By a finger entwined in his hair.

You charm'd me not with that fair face

© John Dryden

You charm'd me not with that fair face
Though it was all divine:
To be another's is the grace,
That makes me wish you mine.

Amen

© Christina Georgina Rossetti

It is over. What is over?
Nay, now much is over truly!
Harvest days we toiled to sow for;
Now the sheaves are gathered newly,
Now the wheat is garnered duly.

A Prelude At Evening

© Robert Laurence Binyon

My spirit was like the lonely air
Before night,
Like hovering cloud that's melted there
In the late light,

The Cowboy

© James Tate

Someone had spread an elaborate rumor about me, that I was

in possession of an extraterrestrial being, and I thought I knew who

Love and Death

© Lord Byron

I watched thee when the foe was at our side,
Ready to strike at himor thee and me,
Were safety hopelessrather than divide
Aught with one loved save love and liberty.

Hymn For The Opening Of Thomas Starr Kings House Of Worship, 1864

© John Greenleaf Whittier

Amidst these glorious works of Thine,
The solemn minarets of the pine,
And awful Shasta's icy shrine,--

Frost at Midnight

The Frost performs its secret ministry,

Unhelped by any wind. The owlet's cry

Naucratia; Or Naval Dominion. Part III.

Arm'd in her cause, on Chalgrave's fatal plain,
Where sorrowing Freedom mourns her Hambden slain,
Say, shall the moralizing bard presume
From his proud hearse to tear one warlike plume,
Because a Cæsar or a Cromwell wore
An impious wreath, wet with their country's gore?

An Old Story

I.

In the ancient house of ages,

Remembering Frost at Kennedy’s Inauguration

© Linda Pastan

Even the flags seemed frozen
to their poles, and the men
stamping their well-shod feet
resembled an army of overcoats.

Fragment III

I will sit by the stream of the plain.
Ye rocks! hang over my head. Hear
my voice, ye trees! as ye bend on the
shaggy hill. My voice shall preserve
the praise of him, the hope of the
isles.

Elegy XXIV. He Takes Occasion, From the Fate of Eleanor of Bretagne

When Beauty mourns, by Fate's injurious doom,
Hid from the cheerful glance of human eye,
When Nature's pride inglorious waits the tomb,
Hard is that heart which checks the rising sigh.

Life

So let the way wind up the hill or down,
O'er rough or smooth, the journey will be joy:
Still seeking what I sought when but a boy,
New friendship, high adventure, and a crown,
My heart will keep the courage of the quest,
And hope the road's last turn will be the best.