Truth poems
/ page 144 of 257 /Lancelot And Elaine
© Alfred Tennyson
How came the lily maid by that good shield
Of Lancelot, she that knew not even his name?
He left it with her, when he rode to tilt
For the great diamond in the diamond jousts,
Which Arthur had ordained, and by that name
Had named them, since a diamond was the prize.
Hymn to Science
© Mark Akenside
But first with thy resistless light,
Disperse those phantoms from my sight,
Those mimic shades of thee;
The scholiast's learning, sophist's cant,
The visionary bigot's rant,
The monk's philosophy.
R.b.
© Aubrey Herbert
It was April we left Lemnos, shining sea and snow-white camp,
Passing onward into darkness. Lemnos shone a golden lamp,
As a low harp tells of thunder, so the lovely Lemnos air
Whispered of the dawn and battle; and we left a comrade there.
An Essay on Criticism: Part 3
© Alexander Pope
Learn then what morals critics ought to show,
For 'tis but half a judge's task, to know.
'Tis not enough, taste, judgment, learning, join;
In all you speak, let truth and candour shine:
That not alone what to your sense is due,
All may allow; but seek your friendship too.
Delia XXXVII
© Samuel Daniel
When men shall find thy flower, thy glory pass,
And thou, with careful brow sitting alone,
Hudibras: Part 3 - Canto III
© Samuel Butler
What made thee, when they all were gone,
And none but thou and I alone,
To act the Devil, and forbear
To rid me of my hellish fear?
Love-Lily
© Dante Gabriel Rossetti
Between the hands, between the brows,
Between the lips of Love-Lily,
Lines written under the conviction that it is not wise to read Mathematics in November after one’s fire is out
© James Clerk Maxwell
In the sad November time,
When the leaf has left the lime,
Paradise Lost : Book X.
© John Milton
Mean while the heinous and despiteful act
Of Satan, done in Paradise; and how
The Troubadour. Canto 4
© Letitia Elizabeth Landon
But he was safe!--that very day
Farewell, it had been her's to say;
And he was gone to his own land,
To seek another maiden's hand.
Flower Of Aloe
© Edith Nesbit
HOW can I tell you how I love you, dear?
There is no music now the world is old;
The songs have all been sung, the tales all told
Broken the vows are all this many a year.
A Poem Beginning with a Line by Pindar
© Robert Duncan
I
The light foot hears you and the brightness begins
god-step at the margins of thought,
quick adulterous tread at the heart.
Elegy Written in a Country Churchyard
© Thomas Gray
The curfew tolls the knell of parting day,
The lowing herd wind slowly o'er the lea,
The plowman homeward plods his weary way,
And leaves the world to darkness and to me.
L'Envoi
© James Russell Lowell
Whether my heart hath wiser grown or not,
In these three years, since I to thee inscribed,
Meary-Anns Child
© William Barnes
Meary-Ann wer alwone wi' her beäby in eärms,
In her house wi' the trees over head,
Vor her husban' wer out in the night an' the storms,
In his business a-tweilèn vor bread;
An' she, as the wind in the elems did roar,
Did grievy vor Robert all night out o' door.
Sonnet CXLVII: My love is a fever, longing still
© William Shakespeare
My love is a fever, longing still
For that which longer nurseth the disease,