Sad poems
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Cradle Song Of The Cossack Mother
© Mikhail Lermontov
Slumber sweet, my fairest baby,
Slumber calmly, sleep
Queen Mab: Part IX.
© Percy Bysshe Shelley
Earth floated then below;
The chariot paused a moment there;
The Spirit then descended;
The restless coursers pawed the ungenial soil,
Snuffed the gross air, and then, their errand done,
Unfurled their pinions to the winds of heaven.
H. C. M. H. S. J. K. W.
© Oliver Wendell Holmes
THE dirge is played, the throbbing death-peal rung,
The sad-voiced requiem sung;
On each white urn where memory dwells
The wreath of rustling immortelles
Our loving hands have hung,
And balmiest leaves have strown and tenderest blossoms flung.
Denouement Villanelle
© Sylvia Plath
The telegram says you have gone away
And left our bankrupt circus on its own;
There is nothing more for me to say.
War
© Isabella Valancy Crawford
Shake, shake the earth with giant tread,
Thou red-maned Titian bold;
Book Seventh [Residence in London]
© William Wordsworth
Returned from that excursion, soon I bade
Farewell for ever to the sheltered seats
Of gowned students, quitted hall and bower,
And every comfort of that privileged ground,
Well pleased to pitch a vagrant tent among
The unfenced regions of society.
Indian Woman's Death-Song
© Felicia Dorothea Hemans
Non, je ne puis vivre avec un coeur brisé® Il faut que je retrouve la joie, et que je m'unisse aux esprits libres de l'air.
Bride of Messina,
Madame De Stael
Let not my child be a girl, for very sad is the life of a woman.
The Prairie.
The Sermon in the Stocking
© Anonymous
The supper is over, the hearth is swept,
And in the wood-fire's glow
The children cluster to hear a tale
Of that time so long ago,
Metamorphoses: Book The Third
© Ovid
The End of the Third Book.
Translated into English verse under the direction of
Sir Samuel Garth by John Dryden, Alexander Pope, Joseph Addison,
William Congreve and other eminent hands
The College Colonel
© Herman Melville
He rides at their head;
A crutch by his saddle just slants in view,
The Dawn
© George MacDonald
And must I ever wake, gray dawn, to know
Thee standing sadly by me like a ghost?
Massas in de Cold Ground
© Stephen C. Foster
Down in de corn-field
Hear dat mournful sound:
All de darkeys am a-weeping,
Massas in de cold, cold ground.
At My Fireside
© Oliver Wendell Holmes
ALONE, beneath the darkened sky,
With saddened heart and unstrung lyre,
I heap the spoils of years gone by,
And leave them with a long-drawn sigh,
Like drift-wood brands that glimmering lie,
Before the ashes hide the fire.
The Children Of The Foam
© William Wilfred Campbell
You may hear our hailing, hailing,
For the voices of our home;
Ride we, ride we, ever home,
Haunted children of the foam.
Written at Tunbridge--Wells
© Mary Barber
These Plains, so joyous once to me,
Now sadly chang'd appear:
Hortensia I no more can see,
Who patroniz'd me here.
A Portrait
© Alfred Austin
When friends grown faithless, or the fickle throng,
Withdrawing from my life the love they lent,
A Legend Of Brittany - Part Second
© James Russell Lowell
I
As one who, from the sunshine and the green,
Mother and Daughter- Sonnet Sequence
© Augusta Davies Webster
Oh goddess head! Oh innocent brave eyes!
Oh curved and parted lips where smiles are rare
And sweetness ever! Oh smooth shadowy hair
Gathered around the silence of her brow!
Child, I'd needs love thy beauty stranger-wise:
And oh the beauty of it, being thou!
Beyond The Shadow
© Augusta Davies Webster
SOME quick kind tears, some easy sorrow,
And then 'tis past.
'Twas sad; yet sadness has its morrow;
Blue skies succeed skies overcast:
Why should grief last?
