Mom poems

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Edwin and Eltruda, a Legendary Tale

© Helen Maria Williams

Where the pure Derwent's waters glide
  Along their mossy bed,
Close by the river's verdant side,
  A castle rear'd its head.

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HMS Pinafore: Act I

© William Schwenck Gilbert


SCENE - Quarter-deck of H.M.S. Pinafore.  Sailors, led by
  Boatswain, discovered cleaning brasswork, splicing rope, etc.

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Within and Without: Part III: A Dramatic Poem

© George MacDonald

SCENE I.-Night. London. A large meanly furnished room; a single
candle on the table; a child asleep in a little crib. JULIAN
sits by the table, reading in a low voice out of a book. He looks
older, and his hair is lined with grey; his eyes look clearer.

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Mazeppa

© George Gordon Byron

'Twas after dread Pultowa's day,
  When fortune left the royal Swede--
Around a slaughtered army lay,
  No more to combat and to bleed.

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A Woman’s Apology

© Alfred Austin

In the green darkness of a summer wood,
Wherethro' ran winding ways, a lady stood,
Carved from the air in curving womanhood.

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Phantasmagoria Canto VI ( Dyscomfyture )

© Lewis Carroll

As one who strives a hill to climb,
Who never climbed before:
Who finds it, in a little time,
Grow every moment less sublime,
And votes the thing a bore:

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Stella Maris

© Arthur Symons

Why is it I remember yet

You, of all women one has met

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Andromeda

© Charles Kingsley

Over the sea, past Crete, on the Syrian shore to the southward,

Dwells in the well-tilled lowland a dark-haired AEthiop people,

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Gotham - Book III

© Charles Churchill

Can the fond mother from herself depart?

Can she forget the darling of her heart,

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The Arab’s Faerwell To His Horse

© Caroline Norton

Yes, thou must go! the wild free breeze, the brilliant sun and sky,
Thy master's home--from all of these, my exiled one must fly.
Thy proud dark eye will grow less proud, thy step become less fleet,
And vainly shalt thou arch thy neck, thy master's hand to meet.
Only in sleep shall I behold that dark eye, glancing bright
Only in sleep shall hear again that step so firm and light:

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Lady Constance

© Sydney Thompson Dobell

My Love, my Lord,
I think the toil of glorious day is done.
I see thee leaning on thy jewelled sword,
And a light-hearted child of France
Is dancing to thee in the sun,
And thus he carols in his dance.

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Her Letter

© Francis Bret Harte

I'm sitting alone by the fire,

  Dressed just as I came from the dance,

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Dining-Room Tea

© Rupert Brooke

When you were there, and you, and you,  

Happiness crowned the night; I too,  

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Upon The Sight Of A Beautiful Picture Painted By Sir G. H. Beaumont, Bart

© William Wordsworth

PRAISED be the Art whose subtle power could stay
Yon cloud, and fix it in that glorious shape;
Nor would permit the thin smoke to escape,
Nor those bright sunbeams to forsake the day;

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Lament Of Mary Queen Of Scots

© William Wordsworth

SMILE of the Moon!--for I so name

That silent greeting from above;

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An Empty Room

© Roderic Quinn

"THIS is the room where Pinksie died";
So runs the writing there on the wall.
The world outside is a golden tide
Of light, but here the shadows fall.

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Koya San

© Robert Laurence Binyon

High on the mountain, shrouded in vast trees,
The stillness had the chastity of frost.
I trod the fallen pallors of the moon.
The path was paven stone: I was not lost,
But followed whither it should lead me soon
Into the mountain’s midmost secrecies.

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Don Juan: Canto The Tenth

© George Gordon Byron

When Newton saw an apple fall, he found

In that slight startle from his contemplation--

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The Soldier On Crutches

© Edgar Albert Guest

He came down the stairs on the laughter-filled grill
Where patriots were eating and drinking their fill,
The tap of his crutch on the marble of white
Caught my ear as I sat all alone there that night.
I turned—and a soldier my eyes fell upon,
He had fought for his country, and one leg was gone!