All Poems
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The Coronation Of Inez De Castro
© Felicia Dorothea Hemans
There was music on the midnight;
From a royal fane it roll'd,
My Hunting Song
© Charles Kingsley
Forward! Hark forward's the cry!
One more fence and we're out on the open,
A Prophecy: To George Keats In America
© John Keats
'Tis the witching hour of night,
Orbed is the moon and bright,
To The Afflicted, Tossed With Tempests And Not Comforted
© John Newton
Pensive, doubting, fearful heart,
Hear what Christ the Saviour says;
Amor Mysticus
© John Hay
Let them say to my Lover
That here I lie!
The thing of His pleasure,
His slave am I.
An Arrow-Slit
© Jean Ingelow
I clomb full high the belfry tower
Up to yon arrow-slit, up and away,
I said 'let me look on my heart's fair flower
In the walled garden where she doth play.'
The Little Woman
© Edgar Albert Guest
The little woman, to her I bow
And doff my hat as I pass her by;
The Moon, how definite its orb! (fragment)
© Samuel Taylor Coleridge
The Moon, how definite its orb!
Yet gaze again, and with a steady gaze-
Esther, A Sonnet Sequence: XXXVIII
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
``I do not doubt it. You have a look of truth
Which is beyond suspicion. But the world
Is as full of knaves as fools. You have your youth
And I my wisdom. Then your head is curled
From Amorgos
© Nikos Gatsos
I
With their country tied to their sails and their oars hung on
the wind
The shipwrecked slept tamely like dead beasts on a bedding
The Purification
© Rosanna Eleanor Leprohon
Softly the sunbeams gleamed athwart the Temple proud and high
Built up by Israels wisest to the Lord of earth and sky
Lighting its gorgeous fretted roof, and every sacred fold
Of mystic veilfrom gaze profane that hid the ark of old.
Virgidemarium (excerpt)
© Joseph Hall
With some pot-fury, ravish'd from their wit,
They sit and muse on some no-vulgar writ:
God-Speed to the Snow
© Archibald Lampman
March is slain; the keen winds fly;
Nothing more is thine to do;
The Forest Way
© Madison Julius Cawein
I climbed a forest path and found
A dim cave in the dripping ground,
Where dwelt the spirit of cool sound,
Who wrought with crystal triangles,
And hollowed foam of rippled bells,
A music of mysterious spells.
The Daisies
© James Brunton Stephens
IN THE scented bud of the morningO,
When the windy grass went rippling far,
The Vision Of Sir Launfal
© James Russell Lowell
Sir Launfal awoke, as from a swound:-
"The Grail in my castle here is found!
Hang my idle armor up on the wall,
Let it be the spider's banquet-hall;
He must be fenced with stronger mail
Who would seek and find the Holy Grail."
To The South
© Paul Laurence Dunbar
Heart of the Southland, heed me pleading now,
Who bearest, unashamed, upon my brow
The long kiss of the loving tropic sun,
And yet, whose veins with thy red current run.
The Brus Book X
© John Barbour
[Preparations for battle against John of Lorn]
Quhen Thomas Randell on this wis
Sonnet To The Nile
© John Keats
Son of the old Moon-mountains African!
Chief of the Pyramid and Crocodile!
We call thee fruitful, and that very while
A desert fills our seeing's inward span:
Naguere - Prologue
© Paul Verlaine
Glimm'ring twilight things are these,
Visions of the end of night.
Truth, thou lightest them, I wis,
Only with a distant light,
