Sad poems
/ page 16 of 140 /
Wamberal
© Henry Kendall
Just a shell, to which the seaweed glittering yet with greenness clings,
Like the song that once I loved so, softly of the old time sings -
Night
© James Brunton Stephens
Hark how the tremulous night-wind is passing in joy-laden sighs;
Soft through my window it comes, like the fanning of pinions angelic,
Whispering to cease from myself, and look out on the infinite skies.
Our Jack
© Henry Kendall
Twelve years ago our Jack was lost. All night,
Twelve years ago, the Spirit of the Storm
Italy : 49. The Feluca
© Samuel Rogers
Day glimmered; and beyond the precipice
(Which my mule followed as in love with fear,
Or as in scorn, yet more and more inclining
To tempt the danger where it menaced most)
At A Dinner To Admiral Farragut
© Oliver Wendell Holmes
JULY 6, 1865
Now, smiling friends and shipmates all,
On The Death Of The Bishop Of Ely. Anno Aet. 17. (Translated From Milton)
© William Cowper
My lids with grief were tumid yet,
And still my sullied cheek was wet
On two Children dying of one Disease, and buried in one Grave
© Henry King
Brought forth in sorrow, and bred up in care,
Two tender Children here entombed are:
One Place, one Sire, one Womb their being gave,
They had one mortal sickness, and one grave.
I've Lived To See Desire Vanish
© Alexander Pushkin
Ive lived to see desire vanish,
With hope Ive slowly come to part,
And I am left with only anguish,
The fruit of emptiness at heart.
The Cynotaph
© Richard Harris Barham
Poor Tray charmant!
Poor Tray de mon Ami!
- Dog-bury, and Vergers.
The Hunters Of Men
© John Greenleaf Whittier
HAVE ye heard of our hunting, o'er mountain and glen,
Through cane-brake and forest, the hunting of men?
The lords of our land to this hunting have gone,
As the fox-hunter follows the sound of the horn;
The Three Warnings
© Hester Lynch Piozzi
The tree of deepest root is found
Least willing still to quit the ground;
Let Us Fly!
© Alfred Austin
Giacomo! back to the stable;
I shan't want the horses to-night.
And see you be gentle with Mabel;
It is not her temper, but fright.
Soft and warm, deep and broad, be her litter,
And her mane most caressingly curled.
In The Desert
© Ernest Favenc
A cloudless sky oerhead, and all around
The level country stretching like a sea
A dull grey sea, that had no seeming bound,
The very semblance of eternity.
An Oriental Apologue
© James Russell Lowell
Somewhere in India, upon a time,
(Read it not Injah, or you spoil the verse,)
The Saddest Fate
© Anonymous
To touch a broken lute,
To strike a jangled string,
To strive with tones forever mute
The dear old tunes to sing--
What sadder fate could any heart befall?
Alas! dear child, never to sing at all.
On the Departure of Sir Walter Scott from Abbotsford
© William Wordsworth
. A trouble, not of clouds, or weeping rain,
Nor of the setting sun's pathetic light
On The Ice Islands Seen Floating In The German Ocean
© William Cowper
What portents, from what distant region, ride,
Unseen till now in ours, the astonished tide?
In ages past, old Proteus, with his droves
Of sea-calves, sought the mountains and the groves;
To-morrow I'm Losing My Darling
© Anonymous
CHORUS
Oh, bother the missus, and bother her tongue,
And bother her snapping and snarling;
Through wagging her jaws, without any cause,
To-morrow I'm losing my darling.
The End Of The Chapter
© Paul Laurence Dunbar
Ah, yes, the chapter ends to-day;
We even lay the book away;
But oh, how sweet the moments sped
Before the final page was read!
