Sad poems
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The Poet And The Children
© John Greenleaf Whittier
WITH a glory of winter sunshine
Over his locks of gray,
In the old historic mansion
He sat on his last birthday;
Jerusalem Delivered - Book 06 - part 01
© Torquato Tasso
THE ARGUMENT.
Argantes calls the Christians out to just:
The Creek
© Madison Julius Cawein
O cheerly, cheerly by the road
And merrily down the billet;
And where the acre-field is sowed
With bristle-bearded millet.
The Unknown Eros. Book I.
© Coventry Kersey Dighton Patmore
Well dost thou, Love, thy solemn Feast to hold
In vestal February;
Not rather choosing out some rosy day
From the rich coronet of the coming May,
When all things meet to marry!
Three Women
© Wilcox Ella Wheeler
My love is young, so young;
Young is her cheek, and her throat,
And life is a song to be sung
With love the word for each note.
Elspeth's Ballad
© Sir Walter Scott
The herring loves the merry moon-light,
The mackerel loves the wind,
But the oyster loves the dredging sang,
For they come of a gentle kind.
Riding Home
© Katharine Tynan
Who are these that go to the high peaks and the snow?
Side by side do they ride, their steady eyes aglow.
Gallant gentlemen, they go spurring o'er the plain;
Home from the war again.
Lines On The Death Of S. Oliver Torrey
© John Greenleaf Whittier
SECRETARY OF THE BOSTON YOUNG MEN'S ANTI-SLAVERY SOCIETY.
Gone before us, O our brother,
Parson Turells Legacy
© Oliver Wendell Holmes
OR, THE PRESIDENT'S OLD ARM-CHAIR
A MATHEMATICAL STORY
The Closed Door
© Madison Julius Cawein
SHUT it out of the heart this grief,
O Love, with the years grown old and hoary!
And let in joy that life is brief,
And give God thanks for the end of the story.
The Deserted Village
© Mark van Doren
Sweet Auburn, loveliest village of the plain,
Where health and plenty cheared the labouring swain,
The Redbreast Chasing The Butterfly
© William Wordsworth
ART thou the bird whom Man loves best,
The pious bird with the scarlet breast,
Our little English Robin;
The bird that comes about our doors
When Your Sins Come Home to Roost
© Henry Lawson
When you fear the barbers mirror when you go to get a crop,
Or in sorrow every morning comb your hair across the top:
When you titivate and do the little things you never used
It is close upon the season when your sins come home to roost.
America Politica Historia, in Spontaneity
© Gregory Corso
O this political air so heavy with the bells
and motors of a slow night, and no place to rest
Paradise Lost: Book IV
© Patrick Kavanagh
"Which of those rebel Spirits adjudg'd to Hell
Com'st thou, escap'd thy prison? and, transform'd,
Why satt'st thou like an enemy in wait,
Here watching at the head of these that sleep?"
Dialogue Souldn't Cease (With English Translation)
© Ali Sardar Jafri
GUFTGOO BAnD NA HO
BAAT SE BAAT CHALEY
SUBH TAK SHAAM-E-MULAAQAAT CHALEY
HUM PE HAnSTI HUEE
YE TAAROn BHARI RAAT CHALEY
Poems - Written On The Deaths Of Three Lovely Children
© Jean Ingelow
Yellow leaves, how fast they flutter-woodland hollows thickly strewing,
Where the wan October sunbeams scantly in the mid-day win,
While the dim gray clouds are drifting, and in saddened hues imbuing
All without and all within!
