All Poems

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Olney Hymn 42: Self-Acquaintance

© William Cowper

Dear Lord! accept a sinful heart,
Which of itself complains,
And mourns, with much and frequent smart,
The evil it contains.

They Lived Enamoured of the Lovely Moon

© Trumbull Stickney

They lived enamoured of the lovely moon,

The dawn and twilight on their gentle lake.

From The Building of the Ship

© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

The Republic

THOU, too, sail on, O Ship of State!

Maha-Bharata, The Epic Of Ancient India - Book I - Astra Darsana (The Tournament)

The scene of the Epic is the ancient kingdom of the Kurus which
flourished along the upper course of the Ganges; and the historical
fact on which the Epic is based is a great war which took place
between the Kurus and a neighbouring tribe, the Panchalas, in the
thirteenth or fourteenth century before Christ.

A Paradox, That The Sick Are In A Better Case Than The Whole

© George Herbert

You who admire yourselves because
You neither groan nor weep,
And think it contrary to Nature's laws
To want one ounce of sleep,
Your strong belief
Acquits yourselves, and gives the sick all grief.

Baby Bell

© Thomas Bailey Aldrich

I

Have you not heard the poets tell

Lincolnshire Bomber Station

© Henry Treece

Across the road the homesick Romans made
The ground-mist thickens to a milky shroud;
Through flat, damp fields call sheep, mourning their dead
In cracked and timeless voices, unutterably sad,
Suffering for all the world, in Lincolnshire.

The Progres Of The Soule

© John Donne

Wherein,

BY OCCASION OF

Sonnet XVI: And Yet, Because Thou

© Elizabeth Barrett Browning

And yet, because thou overcomest so,

Because thou art more noble and like a king,

And That I Walk Thus Proudly Crowned Withal

© Percy Bysshe Shelley

And that I walk thus proudly crowned withal
Is that 'tis my distinction; if I fall,
I shall not weep out of the vital day,
To-morrow dust, nor wear a dull decay.

Now I understand!

© Saigyo

Now I understand!
When to remember me
She vowed,
She said she would forget me,
But kindly!

Her Grave.

The flowers on her grave scarce breathe,
So sweet a flower lies hid beneath;
As if they feared their growth might stir
The sleepy earth that covers her.

An Invitation

Nine years have slipt like hour-glass sand
From life's still-emptying globe away,
Since last, dear friend, I clasped your hand,
And stood upon the impoverished land,
Watching the steamer down the bay.

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