Wish poems

/ page 28 of 92 /

Order by :

1
. . .
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
. . .
92

Mark Antony

© John Cleveland

Whenas the nightingale chanted her vespers,

And the wild forester couched on the ground,

Sweet was the clear
Chatter of the stream now that our talk was hushed; the flitting
water-ouzel returned to her stone;
A lovely snake, two delicate scarlet lines down the dark back,
swam through the pool. The flood-battered
Trees by the stream are more noble than cathedral-columns.

The Kalevala - Rune IV

© Elias Lönnrot

THE FATE OF AINO.

Bess

© William Stafford

Ours are the streets where Bess first met her

cancer. She went to work every day past the

The Realms Of Gold

© Alfred Noyes

I wished that a poet who died in Europe
Had found his way to this rose-red West;
That Keats had walked by the wide Pacific
And cradled his head on its healing breast,
And made new songs of the sun-burned sea-folk,
New poems, perhaps his best.

Adam: A Sacred Drama. Act 2.

© William Cowper

How exquisitely sweet
This rich display of flowers,
This airy wild of fragrance,
So lovely to the eye,
And to the sense so sweet.

Texas

© Henry Van Dyke

A DEMOCRATIC ODE

I

A Story Of Doom: Book III.

© Jean Ingelow

Above the head of great Methuselah
There lay two demons in the opened roof
Invisible, and gathered up his words;
For when the Elder prophesied, it came
About, that hidden things were shown to them,
And burdens that he spake against his time.

Maha-Bharata, The Epic Of Ancient India - Book VII - Udyoga -- (The Preparation)

© Romesh Chunder Dutt

And to far Hastina's palace Krishna went to sue for peace,
Raised his voice against the slaughter, begged that strife and feud
should cease!

Jerusalem Delivered - Book 03 - part 01

© Torquato Tasso

THE ARGUMENT.

The camp at great Jerusalem arrives:

The Bonie Wee Thing

© Robert Burns

Wishfully I look and languish
In that bonie face o' thine,
And my heart it sounds wi' anguish,
Lest my wee thing be na mine.

Quintetto

Jack Horner's CHRISTMAS PIE my learned nurse
Interpreted to mean the public purse.
From thence a plum he drew. O happy Horner!
Who would not be ensconced in thy snug corner

The Hero

'Jack fell as he'd have wished,' the mother said,
And folded up the letter that she'd read.
'The Colonel writes so nicely.' Something broke
In the tired voice that quavered to a choke.
She half looked up. 'We mothers are so proud
Of our dead soldiers.' Then her face was bowed.