Sad poems
/ page 118 of 140 /The Black Knight. (From The German Of Uhland)
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
'Twas Pentecost, the Feast of Gladness,
When woods and fields put off all sadness,
Thus began the King and spake:
So from the halls
Of ancient Hofburgh's walls,
A luxuriant Spring shall break.
The Artist
© William Henry Ogilvie
He stands at no easel, he mixes no paint,
He colours no canvas to gladden the eye,
The Wild Common
© David Herbert Lawrence
The quick sparks on the gorse bushes are leaping,
Little jets of sunlight-texture imitating flame;
Above them, exultant, the peewits are sweeping:
They are lords of the desolate wastes of sadness their screamings proclaim.
The Rewards Of Industry
© Edgar Albert Guest
A FRIEND of mine said yesterday: "There goes a man across the way
Who paid ten thousand dollars for a home a week ago;
The Witch's Frolic
© Richard Harris Barham
Thou mayest have read, my little boy Ned,
Though thy mother thine idlesse blames,
In Doctor Goldsmith's history book,
Of a gentleman called King James,
In quilted doublet, and great trunk breeches,
Who held in abhorrence tobacco and witches.
Recovering Amid The Farms
© Jack Gilbert
Every morning the sad girl brings her three sheep
and two lambs laggardly to the top of the valley,
past my stone hut and onto the mountain to graze.
She turned twelve last year and it was legal
One Day And Another: A Lyrical Eclogue Part I
© Madison Julius Cawein
Herein the dearness of her is;
The thirty perfect days of June
Made one, in maiden loveliness
Were not more sweet to clasp and kiss,
With love not more in tune.
A Point Of Honour
© Alfred Austin
``Tell me again; I did not hear: It was wailing so sadly. Nay,
Hush! little one, for mother wants to know what they have to say.
There! At my breast be good and still! What quiets you calms me too.
They say that the source is poisoned; still, it seems pure enough for you!
girirAjasutA tanaya
© Tyagaraja
Charanam :
GananATha ! parAtpara ! sankarAgama vArinidhi rajanIkara ! PhanirAjakaNkana ! vighna nivAraNa ! shAmbhava ! srItyAgarAjanuta
The Dying Hour
© Caroline Norton
OH! watch me; watch me still
Thro' the long night's dreary hours,
Uphold by thy firm will
Worn Nature's sinking powers!
II.
The Symphony
© Sidney Lanier
And yet shall Love himself be heard,
Though long deferred, though long deferred:
O'er the modern waste a dove hath whirred:
Music is Love in search of a word."
The Jacquerie A Fragment
© Sidney Lanier
Chapter I.Once on a time, a Dawn, all red and bright
Leapt on the conquered ramparts of the Night,
And flamed, one brilliant instant, on the world,
Then back into the historic moat was hurled
The Hard Times In Elfland
© Sidney Lanier
Strange that the termagant winds should scold
The Christmas Eve so bitterly!
But Wife, and Harry the four-year-old,
Big Charley, Nimblewits, and I,
Spring Greeting
© Sidney Lanier
From the German of Herder.All faintly through my soul to-day,
As from a bell that far away
Is tinkled by some frolic fay,
Floateth a lovely chiming.
Little Major
© Henry Clay Work
Crying "Oh! for love of Jesus,
Grant me but this little boon!
Can you, friend, refuse me water?
Can you, when I die so soon?"
Written at Dropmore
© Samuel Rogers
Grenville, to thee my gratitude is due
For many an hour of studious musing here,
A Grey Day
© Roderic Quinn
THE long still day is ending
In hollow and on height,
The lighthouse seaward sending
White rays of steady light;