Men poems

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Sonnet XXIV: O Thou! Meek Orb

© Mary Darby Robinson

O thou! meek Orb! that stealing o'er the dale
Cheer'st with thy modest beams the noon of night!
On the smooth lake diffusing silv'ry light,
Sublimely still, and beautifully pale!

Sonnet VII: Come, Reason

© Mary Darby Robinson

Come, Reason, come! each nerve rebellious bind,
Lull the fierce tempest of my fev'rish soul;
Come, with the magic of thy meek controul,
And check the wayward wand'rings of my mind:

To The Proof Room

© Bert Leston Taylor

"O MEN of dark and dismal fate,"
A prey to typographic terrors,
O you who labor long and late,
Correcting other people's errors --
Think not I do not realize
How much I owe your Argus-eyes.

There tell me I am most despis'd,
E'en by thyself, whom most I priz'd,
So shall I gladly welcome fate,
And perish in thy perfect hate:
So shall I better bear th' eternal pain,
Never to see thy Form, or hear thy Voice again.

Brother Benedict

© Alfred Austin

Brother Benedict rose and left his cell

With the last slow swing of the evening bell.

How The Helpmate Of Blue-Beard Made Free With A Door

© Guy Wetmore Carryl

The Moral: Wives, we must allow,
Who to their husbands will not bow,
A stern and dreadful lesson learn
When, as you've read, they 're cut in turn.

Ode to Eloquence

© Mary Darby Robinson

Oft, by thy thrilling voice subdued,
The meagre fiend INGRATITUDE
Her treach'rous fang conceals;
Pale ENVY hides her forked sting;
And CALUMNY, beneath the wing
Of dark oblivion steals.

Monody to the Memory of Chatterton

© Mary Darby Robinson

Chill penury repress'd his noble rage,
And froze the genial current of his soul.
GRAY.

Mistress Gurton's Cat

© Mary Darby Robinson

Thus, often, we with anguish sore
The dead , in clam'rous grief deplore;
Who, were they once alive again
Would meet the sting of cold disdain!
For FRIENDS, whom trifling faults can sever,
Are valued most , WHEN LOST FOR EVER!

Lines inscribed to P. de Loutherbourg, Esq. R. A.

© Mary Darby Robinson

WHERE on the bosom of the foamy RHINE,
In curling waves the rapid waters shine;
Where tow'ring cliffs in awful grandeur rise,
And midst the blue expanse embrace the skies;

Female Fashions for 1799

© Mary Darby Robinson

A form, as any taper, fine ;
A head like half-pint bason ;
Where golden cords, and bands entwine,
As rich as fleece of JASON.

Elegy to the Memory of Richard Boyle, Esq.

© Mary Darby Robinson

NEAR yon bleak mountain's dizzy height,
That hangs o'er AVON's silent wave;
By the pale Crescent's glimm'ring light,
I sought LORENZO's lonely grave.

Epitaph For Joseph Blackett, Late Poet And Shoemaker

© George Gordon Byron

Stranger! behold, interr'd together,
The souls of learning and of leather.
Poor Joe is gone, but left his all:
You'll find his relics in a stall.

The Ring And The Book - Chapter VIII - Dominus Hyacinthus de Archangelis

(Virgil, now, should not be too difficult
To Cinoncino,say the early books . . .
Pen, truce to further gambols! Poscimur!)

The Invective of Achilles

[Iliad, B. I. V. 149]

"Heigh me! brazen of front, thou glutton for plunder, how can one,

The Borough. Letter XXIII: Prisons

'TIS well--that Man to all the varying states

Of good and ill his mind accommodates;

The Victories Of Love. Book I

II
From Mrs. Graham

The Dead To Clemenceau:

NOVEMBER, 1929
Come (we say) Clemenceau.
Why should you live longer than others? The vacuum that sucked
Us down, and the former stars, draws at you also.