Pet poems
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The Preacher
© John Greenleaf Whittier
The impulse spread like the outward course
Of waters moved by a central force;
The tide of spiritual life rolled down
From inland mountains to seaboard town.
The Pastime of Pleasure: Of dysposycyon the II. parte of rethoryke - (til line 3950)
© Stephen Hawes
Of the merualyos argument bytwene Mars and fortune. Ca. xxvij.
3018 Besyde this toure of olde foundacyon
3019 There was a temple strongly edefyed
3020 To the hygh honoure and reputacyon
The Ballad of Bouillabaisse
© William Makepeace Thackeray
A street there is in Paris famous,
For which no rhyme our language yields,
Records of Romantic Passion
© Charles Harpur
THERES a rare Soul of Poesy which may be
But concentrated by the chastened dreams
La Frivolite
© André Marie de Chénier
Mère du vain caprice et du léger prestige,
La fantaisie ailée autour d'elle voltige,
Cest Lou Quon La Nommait
© Guillaume Apollinaire
Il est des loups de toute sorte
Je connais le plus inhumain
Mon cur que le diable lemporte
Et quil le dépose à sa porte
Nest plus quun jouet dans sa main
The Ring And The Book - Chapter VI - Giuseppe Caponsacchi
© Robert Browning
Again the morning found me. I will work,
Tie down my foolish thoughts. Thank God so far!
I have saved her from a scandal, stopped the tongues
Had broken else into a cackle and hiss
Around the noble name. Duty is still
Wisdom: I have been wise. So the day wore.
The Man of Sentiment
© Kenneth Slessor
Part One
[A walled garden of York. It is an August Sunday, and the baying of deep church-bells is blown faintly in a warm wind. Laurence Sterne, prebendary, aged forty-six, and Catherine de Fromantel, a girl who sings at Ranelagh, are dawdling through the arbours, and pause at a path which runs between hedges and cypress-trees round a corner some fifty yards away. Catherine has walked down such a path before, it is to be feared, and halts cautiously upon its fringes.]
Laurence:
Nay, 'tis no Devil's walk,
Peter Bell The Third
© Percy Bysshe Shelley
Is it a party in a parlour,
Crammed just as they on earth were crammed,
Some sipping punch-some sipping tea;
But, as you by their faces see,
All silent, and all-damned!
Peter Bell, by W. Wordsworth.
The Gleaner
© Virna Sheard
As children gather daisies down green ways
Mid butterflies and bees,
To-day across the meadows of past days
I gathered memories.
Communion
© Paul Laurence Dunbar
In the silence of my heart,
I will spend an hour with thee,
When my love shall rend apart
All the veil of mystery:
George And The Chimney-Sweep
© Ann Taylor
HIS petticoats now George cast off,
For he ws four years old;
Queen Marys Letter To Bothwell
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
Pitiful gods! Have pity on my passion.
Teach me the road how I a certain proving
Shall make to him I love of my great loving,
My faith unchanged, nor plead it in fool's fashion.
Griselda: A Society Novel In Verse - Chapter II
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
'Twas thus she comforted her soul. And then,
She had found a friend, a phoenix among men,
Which made it easier to compound with life,
Easier to be a woman and a wife.
Mon Frere Camille
© William Henry Drummond
Mon frere Camille he was first class blood
W'en he come off de State las' fall,
Pharsalia - Book IX: Cato
© Marcus Annaeus Lucanus
Such were the words he spake; and soon the fleet
Had dared the angry deep: but Cato's voice
While praising, calmed the youthful chieftain's rage.
Martha
© Robert Laurence Binyon
A woman sat, with roses red
Upon her lap before her spread,
On that high bridge whose parapet
Wide over turbulent Thames is set,
