Pet poems
/ page 88 of 126 /
The petals tremble
© Matsuo Basho
The petals tremble
on the yellow mountain rose
roar of the rapids
The Lady of the Lake: Canto I. - The Chase
© Sir Walter Scott
Introduction.
Harp of the North! that mouldering long hast hung
Enoch Arden
© Alfred Tennyson
At length she spoke `O Enoch, you are wise;
And yet for all your wisdom well know I
That I shall look upon your face no more.'
Elm
© Sylvia Plath
I know the bottom, she says. I know it with my great tap root;
It is what you fear.
I do not fear it: I have been there.
Absence
© Paul Laurence Dunbar
GOODNIGHT, my love, for I have dreamed of thee,
In walking dreams, until my soul is lost
Old Tunes
© Sara Teasdale
As the waves of perfume, heliotrope,rose,
Float in the garden when no wind blows,
Snowdrops
© Kenneth Slessor
The Snowdrop Girl in fields of snowdrops walks,
Whiter than foam, deeper than waters flowing,
Flakes of wild milk gone blowing,
Panthea
© Oscar Wilde
. NAY, let us walk from fire unto fire,
From passionate pain to deadlier delight,-
I am too young to live without desire,
Too young art thou to waste this summer night
Asking those idle questions which of old
Man sought of seer and oracle, and no reply was told.
The Old Manor House
© Ada Cambridge
An old house, crumbling half away, all barnacled and lichen-grown,
Of saddest, mellowest, softest grey,-with a grand history of its own-
Grand with the work and strife and tears of more than half a thousand years.
The Rhodora: On Being Asked, Whence Is The Flower?
© Ralph Waldo Emerson
In May, when sea-winds pierced our solitudes,
I found the fresh Rhodora in the woods,
Peter Rugg the Bostonian
© Louise Imogen Guiney
The mare is pawing by the oak,
The chaise is cool and wide
For Peter Rugg the Bostonian
With his little son beside;
The women loiter at the wheels
In the pleasant summer-tide.
The Reverend Dr. L---.
© Mary Barber
In vain you shew a happy Nation,
The Gospel's gracious Dispensation;
And plead from thence, to bring up Youth
To early Piety and Truth.
To unattentive Ears you preach,
What Miseries alone can teach.
The Quaker Alumni
© John Greenleaf Whittier
From the well-springs of Hudson, the sea-cliffs of Maine,
Grave men, sober matrons, you gather again;
And, with hearts warmer grown as your heads grow more cool,
Play over the old game of going to school.
