Sports poems
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Will
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
YOUR face, my boy, when six months old,
We propped you laughing in a chair,
And the sun-artist caught the gold
Which rippled o'er your waving hair!
The Farmer's Boy - Spring
© Robert Bloomfield
Down, indignation! hence, ideas foul!
Away the shocking image from my soul!
Let kindlier visitants attend my way,
Beneath approaching _Summer's_ fervid ray;
Nor thankless glooms obtrude, nor cares annoy,
Whilst the sweet theme is _universal joy_.
Hunting Song
© Robert Bloomfield
Ye darksome Woods where Echo dwells,
Where every bud with freedom swells
To meet the glorious day:
The morning breaks; again rejoice;
And with old Ringwood's well-known voice
Bid tuneful Echo play.
The Pleasures of Imagination: Book The First
© Mark Akenside
With what attractive charms this goodly frame
Of nature touches the consenting hearts
Autumn Days
© William Henry Drummond
In dreams of the night I hear the call
Of wild duck scudding across the lake,
In dreams I see the old convent wall,
Where Ottawa's waters surge and break.
X: And Must I Sing?
© Benjamin Jonson
And must I sing? what subject shall I chuse?
Or whose great name in Poets heaven use?
For the more countenance to my active Muse?
Fifteenth Sunday After Trinity
© John Keble
Sweet nurslings of the vernal skies,
Bathed in soft airs, and fed with dew,
Elegy On Newstead Abbey
© George Gordon Byron
No mail-clad serfs, obedient to their lord,
In grim array the crimson cross demand;
Or gay assemble round the festive board
Their chief's retainers, an immortal band:
Quatrains Of Life
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
What has my youth been that I love it thus,
Sad youth, to all but one grown tedious,
Stale as the news which last week wearied us,
Or a tired actor's tale told to an empty house?
The Last Tournament
© Alfred Tennyson
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.'
Marmion: Introduction to Canto VI.
© Sir Walter Scott
Heap on more wood! the wind is chill;
But let it whistle as it will,
Elegy V. Anno Aet. 20. On The Approach Of Spring (Translated From Milton)
© William Cowper
Time, never wand'ring from his annual round,
Bids Zephyr breathe the Spring, and thaw the ground;
Ye Wearie Wayfarer [A Dedication to the author of Holmby House"
© Adam Lindsay Gordon
Fytte I
By Wood and Wold
[A Preamble]
The Choice Of Sweet Shy Clare
© Rosanna Eleanor Leprohon
Fair as a wreath of fresh spring flowers, a band of maidens lay
On the velvet swardenjoying the golden summer day;
And many a ringing silvry laugh on the calm air clearly fell,
With fancies sweet, which their rosy lips, half unwilling, seemed to tell.
The Progress of Error
© William Cowper
Sing, muse (if such a theme, so dark, so long
May find a muse to grace it with a song),
Ode To The Moon
© Thomas Hood
I
Mother of light! how fairly dost thou go
Over those hoary crests, divinely led!
Art thou that huntress of the silver bow,
Sonnets of the Empire: Australia 1914
© Archibald Thomas Strong
The Night is thick with storm and driving cloud,
Lurid at instants through the blackness break
Paradise Regain'd : Book IV.
© John Milton
Perplexed and troubled at his bad success
The Tempter stood, nor had what to reply,
Discovered in his fraud, thrown from his hope
So oft, and the persuasive rhetoric
