Sad poems
/ page 126 of 140 /
Lucy Hooper
© John Greenleaf Whittier
They tell me, Lucy, thou art dead,
That all of thee we loved and cherished
The Tragic Death of the Rev. A.H. Mackonochie
© William Topaz McGonagall
Friends of humanity, of high and low degree,
I pray ye all come listen to me;
And truly I will relate to ye,
The tragic fate of the Rev. Alexander Heriot Mackonochie.
The Voyage Of Columbus
© Samuel Rogers
Unclasp me, Stranger; and unfold,
With trembling care my leaves of gold,
Rich in gothic portraiture--
If yet, alas, a leaf endure.
The Heart Of Sadness
© Edith Nesbit
IT is not, Dear, because I am alone,
For I am lonelier when the rest are near,
But that my place against your heart has grown
Too dear to dream of when you are not here.
The Desolate City
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
DARK to me is the earth. Dark to me are the heavens.
Where is she that I loved, the woman with eyes like stars?
Desolate are the streets. Desolate is the city.
A city taken by storm, where none are left but the slain.
Within The Gate
© John Greenleaf Whittier
L. M. C.
We sat together, last May-day, and talked
Of the dear friends who walked
Beside us, sharers of the hopes and fears
Of five and forty years,
The Last Berkshire Eleven
© William Topaz McGonagall
'Twas at the disastrous battle of Maiwand, in Afghanistan,
Where the Berkshires were massacred to the last man;
On the morning of July the 27th, in the year eighteen eighty,
Which I'm sorry to relate was a pitiful sight to see.
The Kerrigan Boys
© Edward Harrington
By jove its hot on the track today, my flannel is soaked with sweat.
I think Ill sit in the shade a bit and wait for the sun to set.
I know of a decent camping place by the river beyond the town,
And Id rather carry my swag through there after the sun goes down.
The Demon Drink
© William Topaz McGonagall
Oh, thou demon Drink, thou fell destroyer;
Thou curse of society, and its greatest annoyer.
What hast thou done to society, let me think?
I answer thou hast caused the most of ills, thou demon Drink.
The Crucifixion of Christ
© William Topaz McGonagall
Then Pilate, the Roman Governor, took Jesus and scourged Him,
And the soldiers platted a crown of thorns, and thought it no sin
To put it on His head, while meekly Jesus stands;
They put on Him a purple robe, and smote Him with their hands.
The Clepington Catastrophe
© William Topaz McGonagall
'Twas on a Monday morning, and in the year of 1884,
That a fire broke out in Bailie Bradford's store,
Which contained bales of jute and large quantities of waste,
Which the brave firemen ran to extinguish in great haste.
The Battle of Glencoe
© William Topaz McGonagall
Twas in the month of October, and in the year of 1899,
Which the Boers will remember for a very long time,
Because by the British Army they received a crushing blow;
And were driven from Smith's Hill at the Battle of Glencoe.
The Battle of El-Teb
© William Topaz McGonagall
Ye sons of Great Britain, I think no shame
To write in praise of brave General Graham!
Whose name will be handed down to posterity without any stigma,
Because, at the battle of El-Teb, he defeated Osman Digna.
The Battle of Abu Klea
© William Topaz McGonagall
Ye sons of Mars, come join with me,
And sing in praise of Sir Herbert Stewart's little army,
That made ten thousand Arabs flee
At the charge of the bayonet at Abu Klea.
John Rouat the Fisherman
© William Topaz McGonagall
Margaret Simpson was the daughter of humble parents in the county of Ayr,
With a comely figure, and face of beauty rare,
And just in the full bloom of her womanhood,
Was united to John Rouat, a fisherman good.
A New Year's Resolution to Leave Dundee
© William Topaz McGonagall
Welcome! thrice welcome! to the year 1893,
For it is the year I intend to leave Dundee,
Owing to the treatment I receive,
Which does my heart sadly grieve.
The Younger Son
© Robert William Service
If you leave the gloom of London and you seek a glowing land,
Where all except the flag is strange and new,
There's a bronzed and stalwart fellow who will grip you by the hand,
And greet you with a welcome warm and true;
Cocotte
© Robert William Service
When a girl's sixteen, and as poor as she's pretty,
And she hasn't a friend and she hasn't a home,
Heigh-ho! She's as safe in Paris city
As a lamb night-strayed where the wild wolves roam;
