Sad poems
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The Prophecy of Samuel Sewall
© John Greenleaf Whittier
Up and down the village streets
Strange are the forms my fancy meets,
The Vision Of Piers Plowman - Part 02
© William Langland
And is welcome whan he wile, and woneth with hem ofte.
Alle fledden for fere and flowen into hernes;
Save Mede the mayde na mo dorste abide.
Ac trewely to telle, she trembled for fere,
And ek wepte and wrong whan she was attached.
By The Fireside : The Open Window
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
The old house by the lindens
Stood silent in the shade,
And on the gravelled pathway
The light and shadow played.
Highway
© Faiz Ahmed Faiz
A despondent highway is stretched,
its eyes set on the far horizon
On the cold dirt of its bosom,
its grayish beauty spread
Fragment Of An Epistle To Thomas Moore
© George Gordon Byron
The Czar's look, I own, was much brighter and brisker,
But then he is sadly deficient in whisker;
And wore but a starless blue coat, and in kersey--
Mere breeches whisk'd round, in a waltz with the Jersey,
Who lovely as ever, seem'd just as delighted
With Majesty's presence as those she invited.
On the Place de la Concorde
© Amelia Opie
Proud Seine, along thy winding tide
Fair smiles yon plain expanding wide,
And, deckt with art and nature's pride,
Seems formed for jocund revelry.
Jubilate Agno: Fragment B, Part 2
© Christopher Smart
LET PETER rejoice with the MOON FISH who keeps up the life in the waters by night.
Let Andrew rejoice with the Whale, who is array'd in beauteous blue and is a combination of bulk and activity.
First Communions
© Arthur Rimbaud
Truly, theyre stupid, these village churches
Where fifteen ugly chicks soiling the pillars
Listen, trilling out their divine responses,
To a black freak whose boots stink of cellars:
But the sun wakes now, through the branches,
The irregular stained-glasss ancient colours.
The Man To Follow
© William Henry Ogilvie
Apart from the crowd with its banter and mirth,
Sitting loose on his mare with an eye to the whins,
Letter To Maria Gisborne
© Percy Bysshe Shelley
The spider spreads her webs, whether she be
In poet's tower, cellar, or barn, or tree;
The silk-worm in the dark green mulberry leaves
His winding sheet and cradle ever weaves;
The Ghetto
© Lola Ridge
Cool, inaccessible air
Is floating in velvety blackness shot with steel-blue lights,
But no breath stirs the heat
Leaning its ponderous bulk upon the Ghetto
And most on Hester street…
The Present Age
© Frances Ellen Watkins Harper
Say not the age is hard and cold--
I think it brave and grand;
When men of diverse sects and creeds
Are clasping hand in hand.
Sir Raymond of the Castle
© Mary Darby Robinson
NEAR GLARIS, on a mountain's side,
Beneath a shad'wy wood,
With walls of ivy compass'd round,
An ancient Castle stood.
Cyder: Book I
© John Arthur Phillips
What Soil the Apple loves, what Care is due
To Orchats, timeliest when to press the Fruits,
Thy Gift, Pomona, in Miltonian Verse
Adventrous I presume to sing; of Verse
Nor skill'd, nor studious: But my Native Soil
Invites me, and the Theme as yet unsung.
Via Amoris
© Edith Nesbit
If this were Love why should I turn away?
Am I not, too, made of the common clay?
Is life so fair, am I so fortunate,
I can refuse the capricious gift of Fate,
The sudden glory, the unhoped-for flowers,
The transfiguration of my earthly hours?
Stray Birds 91 - 99
© Rabindranath Tagore
91
THE great earth makes herself hospitable
with the help of the grass.
92
