Sad poems
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Pharsalia - Book IV: Caesar In Spain. War In The Adriatic Sea. Death Of Curio.
© Marcus Annaeus Lucanus
Should mix with ours, the vanquished. Destiny
Has run for us its course: one boon I beg;
Bid not the conquered conquer in thy train."
The Princes' Quest - Part the Second
© William Watson
A fearful and a lovely thing is Sleep,
And mighty store of secrets hath in keep;
The Singing Of The Magnificat
© Edith Nesbit
IN midst of wide green pasture-lands, cut through
By lines of alders bordering deep-banked streams,
Where bulrushes and yellow iris grew,
And rest and peace, and all the flowers of dreams,
The Abbey stood--so still, it seemed a part
Of the marsh-country's almost pulseless heart.
El Desdichado
© Gerard de Nerval
I am the shadowy - the widowed - sadly mute,
At ruined tower still the Prince of Aquitaine:
My single star is dead - my constellated lute
Now bears the sable sun of melancholy pain.
The Dead Ship Of Harpswell
© John Greenleaf Whittier
What flecks the outer gray beyond
The sundown's golden trail?
Ode To Peace
© James Beattie
I. 1.
Peace, heaven-descended maid! whose powerful voice
From ancient darkness call'd the morn;
And hush'd of jarring elements the noise,
Maha-Bharata, The Epic Of Ancient India - Book XI - Sraddha - (Funeral Rites)
© Romesh Chunder Dutt
From their royal brow and bosom gem and jewel cast aside,
Loose their robes and loose their tresses, quenched their haughty queenly
pride!
The Disciple
© George MacDonald
The times are changed, and gone the day
When the high heavenly land,
Though unbeheld, quite near them lay,
And men could understand.
The Lay Of The Lady Lorraine
© Carolyn Wells
In vain they entreated, they begged and they plead,
They coaxed and besought, and they sullenly said
That she was hard-hearted, unfeeling, and cruel.
They challenged each other to many a duel;
They scowled and they scolded, they sulked and they sighed,
But they could not win Lady Lorraine for a bride.
The Little White Glove
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
THE early springtime faintly flushed the earth,
And in the woods, and by their favorite stream
The fair, wild roses blossomed modestly,
Above the wave that wooed them: there at eve,
The Monster Of Mr Cogito
© Zbigniew Herbert
Lucky Saint George
from his knight's saddle
could exactly evaluate
the strength and movements of the dragon
The Convent
© William Lisle Bowles
If chance some pensive stranger, hither led,
His bosom glowing from majestic views,
Metamorphoses: Book The Sixth
© Ovid
The End of the Sixth 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
Visitation And Communion Of The Sick
© John Keble
O Youth and Joy, your airy tread
Too lightly springs by Sorrow's bed,
Hermann And Dorothea - II. Terpsichore
© Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
Then the son thoughtfully answer'd:--"I know not why, but the fact is
My annoyance has graven itself in my mind, and hereafter
I could not bear at the piano to see her, or list to her singing."
The Brothers
© William Wordsworth
"THESE Tourists, heaven preserve us! needs must live
A profitable life: some glance along,
Seaward: To
© Celia Thaxter
HOW long it seems since that mild April night,
When, leaning from the window, you and I
Heard, clearly ringing from the shadowy bight,
The loons unearthly cry!
