Sad poems
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The Rock Of The Betrayed
© Caroline Norton
IT was a Highland chieftain's son
Gazed sadly from the hill:
And they saw him shrink from the autumn wind,
As its blast came keen and chill.
II.
Tonight I Can Write (The Saddest Lines)
© Pablo Neruda
Someone else's. She will be someone else's. As she once
belonged to my kisses.
Her voice, her light body. Her infinite eyes.
Yet Dish
© Gertrude Stein
I
Put a sun in Sunday, Sunday.
Eleven please ten hoop. Hoop.
Cousin coarse in coarse in soap.
Cousin coarse in soap sew up. soap.
Cousin coarse in sew up soap.
The Arabs Faerwell To His Horse
© Caroline Norton
Yes, thou must go! the wild free breeze, the brilliant sun and sky,
Thy master's home--from all of these, my exiled one must fly.
Thy proud dark eye will grow less proud, thy step become less fleet,
And vainly shalt thou arch thy neck, thy master's hand to meet.
Only in sleep shall I behold that dark eye, glancing bright
Only in sleep shall hear again that step so firm and light:
Lady Constance
© Sydney Thompson Dobell
My Love, my Lord,
I think the toil of glorious day is done.
I see thee leaning on thy jewelled sword,
And a light-hearted child of France
Is dancing to thee in the sun,
And thus he carols in his dance.
Voyage of the Jettie
© John Greenleaf Whittier
A shallow stream, from fountains
Deep in the Sandwich mountains,
Ran lake ward Bearcamp River;
And, between its flood-torn shores,
Sped by sail or urged by oars
No keel had vexed it ever.
Sonnet LXX: On Being Cautioned Against Walking on an Headland Overlooking the Sea, Because It Was Fr
© Charlotte Turner Smith
Is there a solitary wretch who hies
To the tall cliff, with starting pace or slow,
Ecologue I
© Virgil
Tityrus.
Sooner shall light stags, therefore, feed in air,
The seas their fish leave naked on the strand,
Germans and Parthians shift their natural bounds,
And these the Arar, those the Tigris drink,
Than from my heart his face and memory fade.
Afterwards by David Baker: American Life in Poetry #133 Ted Kooser, U.S. Poet Laureate 2004-2006
© Ted Kooser
It may be that we are most alone when attending funerals, at least that's how it seems to me. By alone I mean that even among throngs of mourners we pull back within ourselves and peer out at life as if through a window. David Baker, an Ohio poet, offers us a picture of a funeral that could be anybody's.
Afterwards
A short ride in the van, then the eight of us
there in the heatâwhite shirtsleeves sticking,
the women's gloves offâfanning our faces.
The workers had set up a big blue tent
AN ELEGY Occasioned by the losse of the most incomparable Lady Stanhope, daughter to the Earl of Nor
© Henry King
Lightned by that dimme Torch our sorrow bears
We sadly trace thy Coffin with our tears;
And though the Ceremonious Rites are past
Since thy fair body into earth was cast;
Anashuya And Vijaya
© William Butler Yeats
A little Indian temple in the Golden Age. Around it a garden;
around that the forest. Anashuya, the young priestess, kneeling
The Ring And The Book - Chapter II - Half-Rome
© Robert Browning
All five soon somehow found themselves at Rome,
At the villa door: there was the warmth and light
The sense of life so just an inch inside
Some angel must have whispered One more chance!
Song.Oh, had I ne'er beheld thee
© Louisa Stuart Costello
Oh! had I ne'er beheld thee
How calm my life had flown!
As cold, as pure and tranquil
As some fair vale unknown;
The Caged Bird
© Arthur Symons
A year ago I asked you for your soul;
I took it in my hands, it weighed as light
Definition of Creative Art
© Boris Pasternak
With shirt wide open at the collar,
Maned as Beethoven's bust, it stands;
Our conscience, dreams, the night and love,
Are as chessmen covered by its hands.
Despair
© Frances Anne Kemble
Whene'er those forms arise before my sight,
E'en as from hideous visions of the night,
