Sad poems
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The Tournament (From The Old Danish)
© George Borrow
Six score there were, six score and ten,
From Hald that rode that day;
And when they came to Brattingsborg
They pitchd their pavilion gay.
The Drovers
© Henry Lawson
Shrivelled leather, rusty buckles, and the rot is in our knuckles,
Scorched for months upon the pommel while the brittle rein hung free;
Sonnet I.
© Samuel Taylor Coleridge
My heart has thanked thee, Bowles! for those soft strains
Whose sadness soothes me, like the murmuring
Of wild bees in the sunny showers of spring!
For hence not callous to the mourner's pains
Pharsalia - Book VIII: Death Of Pompeius
© Marcus Annaeus Lucanus
Hard the task imposed;
Yet doffed his robe, and swift obeyed, the king
Wrapped in a servant's mantle. If a Prince
For safety play the boor, then happier, sure,
The peasant's lot than lordship of the world.
The Lady Of La Garaye - Part II
© Caroline Norton
A FIRST walk after sickness: the sweet breeze
That murmurs welcome in the bending trees,
When the cold shadowy foe of life departs,
And the warm blood flows freely through our hearts:
Dan's Wife
© Anonymous
Up in early morning light,
Sweeping, dusting, "setting right,"
Oiling all the household springs,
Sewing buttons, tying strings,
Working People
© Arthur Rimbaud
O that warm February morning!
The untimely south came
to stir up our absurd paupers' memories,
our young distress.
Revealment
© Madison Julius Cawein
A sense of sadness in the golden air;
A pensiveness, that has no part in care,
As if the Season, by some woodland pool,
Braiding the early blossoms in her hair,
Seeing her loveliness reflected there,
Had sighed to find herself so beautiful.
The Ode of Tarafah
© Tarafah ibn al Abd
A young gazelle there is in the tribe, dark-lipped, fruit-shaking,
flaunting a double necklace of pearls and topazes,
The Grave By The Lake
© John Greenleaf Whittier
Where the Great Lake's sunny smiles
Dimple round its hundred isles,
And the mountain's granite ledge
Cleaves the water like a wedge,
Ringed about with smooth, gray stones,
Rest the giant's mighty bones.
The Dreams That Came True
© Jean Ingelow
I saw in a vision once, our mother-sphere
The world, her fixed foredooméd oval tracing,
Rolling and rolling on and resting never,
While like a phantom fell, behind her pacing
The unfurled flag of night, her shadow drear
Fled as she fled and hung to her forever.
"Behold Vale! I Said, When I Shall Con"
© William Wordsworth
"Beloved Vale!" I said, "when I shall con
Those many records of my childish years,
Henry James At The Pacific
© Donald Justice
-- Coronado Beach, California, March, 1905
In a hotel room by the sea, the Master
Mogg Megone - Part III.
© John Greenleaf Whittier
Ah! weary Priest! - with pale hands pressed
On thy throbbing brow of pain,
The Rivals
© James Weldon Johnson
So I said, "Lize, w'en we marry, mus' I weah some sto'-bought clo'es?"
She says, "Jeans is good enough fu' any po' folks, heaben knows!"
The Dwellings Of Our Dead.
© Arthur Henry Adams
THEY lie unwatched, in waste and vacant places,
In sombre bush or wind-swept tussock spaces,
Where seldom human tread
And never human trace is
A Letter
© John Greenleaf Whittier
'TIS over, Moses! All is lost!
I hear the bells a-ringing;
Of Pharaoh and his Red Sea host
I hear the Free-Wills singing.*
