There, where the plopping of the guttered rain
Sounds like a heavy footstep in the dark,
Where every shadow thrown by flickering light
Seems like her husband halting at the door,
I say a woman sits, and waits, and sits,
Then trims her fire, and comes to wait again.

Within and Without: Part V: A Dramatic Poem

© George MacDonald

Julian.
A heart that knows what thou canst never know,
Fair angel, blesseth thee, and saith, farewell.

Pippa Passes: Part IV: Night

© Robert Browning

Thanks, friends, many thanks! I chiefly desire life now, that I may recompense every one of you. Most I know something of already. What, a repast prepared?Benedicto benedicatur . . . ugh, ugh! Where was I? Oh, as you were remarking, Ugo, the weather is mild, very unlike winter-weather: but I am a Sicilian, you know, and shiver in your Julys here. To be sure, when 't was full summer at Messina, as we priests used to cross in procession the great square on Assumption Day, you might see our thickest yellow tapers twist suddenly in two, each like a falling star, or sink down on themselves in a gore of wax. But go, my friends, but go! [To the Intendant]
Not you, Ugo! [The others leave the apartment]
I have long wanted to converse with you, Ugo.

The Phantom Light Of The Baie Des Chaleurs

© Arthur Wentworth Hamilton Eaton

Strange is the tale that the fishermen tell,
They say that a ball of fire fell
Straight from the sky, with crash and roar,
Lighting the bay from shore to shore;
That the ship, with a shudder and a groan,
Sank through the waves to the caverns lone

Impromptus

© George Gordon Byron

Along thy sprucest bookshelves shine
The works thou deemest most divine-
The "Art of Cookery,"and mine,
My Murray.

To the Nightingale

© Samuel Taylor Coleridge

Sister of love-lorn Poets, Philomel!

How many Bards in city garret pent,

An Essay On The Different Stiles Of Poetry

© Thomas Parnell

I hate the Vulgar with untuneful Mind,
Hearts uninspir'd, and Senses unrefin'd.
Hence ye Prophane, I raise the sounding String,
And Bolingbroke descends to hear me sing.

The Phantom Ship. (Birds Of Passage. Flight The First)

© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

In Mather's Magnalia Christi,

Of the old colonial time,

Time And Time

© George MacDonald

As I was walkin on the strand,

I spied ane auld man sit

To Sir William Davenant

UPON HIS TWO FIRST BOOKS OF GONDIBERT

FINISHED BEFORE HIS VOYAGE TO AMERICA.

Hush'd Be the Camps Today

© Walt Whitman

Hush'd be the camps today,
And soldiers let us drape our war-worn weapons,
And each with musing soul retire to celebrate,
Our dear commander's death.

Evangeline: Part The First. III.

BENT like a laboring oar, that toils in the surf of the ocean,

Bent, but not broken, by age was the form of the notary public;

"All through the day at my machine"

All through the day at my machine
There still keeps going
A strange little tune through heart and head
As I sit sewing:

Naucratia; Or Naval Dominion. Part I

By love of opulence and science led,
Now Commerce wide her peaceful empire spread,
And seas, obedient to the pilot's art,
But join'd the regions which they seem'd to part;
Free intercourse disarm'd the barbarous mind,
Tam'd savage hate, and humaniz'd mankind.