Life poems

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Charing Cross

© Crosland Thomas William Hodgson

At five o'clock they ring a tinkly bell;The April dawn glimmers along the beds,There is a lifting up of weary headsFrom weary pillows

What tale is this which stirs a world of knavesOut of its grubbing to throw greasy penceForth to the hat, and choke with eloquenceIn boastful prose and verse of doubtful staves?Four men have died, gentlemen, heroes, braves;Snows wrap them round eternally

How He Died

© Crosby Ernest Howard

So he died for his faith. That is fine. More than most of us do.But stay; can you add to that line That he lived for it too?

The Fly

© Crosbie Lynn

Where we almost, nay more than married are..- John Donne

Malcolm's Katie: A Love Story

© Isabella Valancy Crawford

Part IA silver ring that he had beaten outFrom that same sacred coin--first well-priz'd wageFor boyish labour, kept thro' many years

Correspondences

© Christopher Pearse Cranch

All things in nature are beautiful types to the soul that can read them;Nothing exists upon earth, but for unspeakable ends,Every object that speaks to the senses was meant for the spirit;Nature is but a scroll; God's handwriting thereon

The Parson's Grave

© Craig Thomas

His tombstone tells a tale of woe -- The story of a saddened life --"Here lies the Reverend Jonas Lowe, The victim of a faithless wife."

The Task: from Book VI: The Winter Walk at Noon

© William Cowper

Thus heav'nward all things tend

The Task: from Book V: The Winter Morning Walk

© William Cowper

'Tis morning; and the sun, with ruddy orbAscending, fires th' horizon: while the clouds,That crowd away before the driving wind,More ardent as the disk emerges more,Resemble most some city in a blaze,Seen through the leafless wood

The Task: from Book IV: The Winter Evening

Hark! 'tis the twanging horn! O'er yonder bridge,That with its wearisome but needful lengthBestrides the wintry flood, in which the moonSees her unwrinkled face reflected bright,He comes, the herald of a noisy world,With spatter'd boots, strapp'd waist, and frozen locks;News from all nations lumb'ring at his back