Sad poems

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The Visionary Boy

© William Lisle Bowles

Oh! lend that lute, sweet Archimage, to me!

Enough of care and heaviness

The Three Kings

© Edith Nesbit

WHEN the star in the East was lit to shine

The three kings journeyed to Palestine;

The Pleasures of Memory - Part I.

© Samuel Rogers

Twilight's soft dews steal o'er the village-green,
With magic tints to harmonize the scene.
Still'd is the hum that thro' the hamlet broke,
When round the ruins of their antient oak

Where do you search me

© Kabir

Moko Kahan Dhundhere Bande
Mein To Tere Paas Mein
Na Teerath Mein, Na Moorat Mein
Na Ekant Niwas Mein

The Pennsylvania Pilgrim

© John Greenleaf Whittier

The Pennsylvania Pilgrim
Never in tenderer quiet lapsed the day
From Pennsylvania's vales of spring away,
Where, forest-walled, the scattered hamlets lay

Auld Maitland

© Andrew Lang

There lived a king in southern land,
King Edward hight his name;
Unwordily he wore the crown,
Till fifty years were gane.

The Wanderer Looking Into Other Homes

© Caroline Norton

A LONE, wayfaring wretch I saw, who stood
Wearily pausing by the wicket gate;
And from his eyes there streamed a bitter flood,
Contrasting his with many a happier fate.

The Clouds That Promise A Glorious Morrow

© Rosanna Eleanor Leprohon

The clouds that promise a glorious morrow

Are fading slowly, one by one;

The Spirit Of Discovery By Sea - Book The Third

© William Lisle Bowles

My heart has sighed in secret, when I thought

That the dark tide of time might one day close,

Gardening

© Edgar Albert Guest

GARDENING is hardening

In every way you view it;

The Bechuana Boy

© Thomas Pringle

I sat at noontide in my tent,

And looked across the Desert dun,

Lines On Observing A Blossom On The First Of February, 1796

© Samuel Taylor Coleridge

Sweet flower! that peeping from thy russet stem
Unfoldest timidly, (for in strange sort
This dark, frieze-coated, hoarse, teeth-chattering month
Hath borrowed Zephyr's voice, and gazed upon thee

Cold are the Crabs

© Edward Lear

Cold are the crabs that crawl on yonder hills,

Colder the cucumbers that grow beneath,

My Mate Bill

© Anonymous

That's his saddle on the tie-beam,
And them's his spurs up there
On the wall-plate over yonder -
You ken see they ain't a pair.

Runnamede, A Tragedy. Acts III.-V.

What venerable father stands aghast
In yonder porch? Beneath the weight of years,
And crush of sorrow to the earth he bends.
He wrings his hands; casts a wild look to heaven,
And rends his hoary locks. He comes this way.
Heavens, it is Albemarle!-

The Caged Thrush

Alas for the bird who was born to sing!

They have made him a cage; they have clipped his wing;

Idylls of the King: The Last Tournament (excerpt)

To whom the King, "Peace to thine eagle-borne
Dead nestling, and this honour after death,
Following thy will! but, O my Queen, I muse
Why ye not wear on arm, or neck, or zone
Those diamonds that I rescued from the tarn,
And Lancelot won, methought, for thee to wear."