All Poems
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To A Young Lady, On Her Translation Of The Story Of Phoebus And Daphne, From Ovid
© Thomas Parnell
In Phbus Wit (as Ovid said)
Enchanting Beauty woo'd;
Hymn: Thou Hidden Love of God
© John Wesley
Thou hidden love of God, whose height,
Whose depth unfathom'd no man knows,
I see from far thy beauteous light,
Inly I sigh for thy repose;
My heart is pain'd, nor can it be
At rest, till it finds rest in thee.
Sausage
© Edgar Albert Guest
You may brag about your breakfast foods you eat at break of day,
Your crisp, delightful shavings and your stack of last year's hay,
Autumn Song
© Frances Anne Kemble
The merriest time of all the year
Is the time when the leaves begin to fall,
The Decline of the West
© Rudyard Kipling
Now it is not good for the Christian's health to hustle the Aryan
brown,
An Evening Walk
© William Wordsworth
Addressed To A Young Lady
FAR from my dearest Friend, 'tis mine to rove
Home, Wounded
© Sydney Thompson Dobell
Wheel me into the sunshine,
Wheel me into the shadow,
There must be leaves on the woodbine,
Is the king-cup crowned in the meadow?
A Fine Sight
© Edgar Albert Guest
I reckon the finest sight of all
That a man can see in this world of ours
Epilogue to 'The Sister'
© Oliver Goldsmith
WHAT! five long acts -- and all to make us wiser!
Our authoress sure has wanted an adviser.
Freedom
© John Kenyon
Tis not because fierce swords are flashing there,
With license and a reckless scorn of life,
De Amore
© Ernest Christopher Dowson
Shall one be sorrowful because of love,
Which hath no earthly crown,
The Lord of the Isles: Canto III.
© Sir Walter Scott
I.
Hast thou not mark'd, when o'er thy startled head
Too Young For Love
© Oliver Wendell Holmes
Too young for love?
Ah, say not so,
To practise all love learned in May.
June soon will come with lengthened day
While daisies bloom and tulips glow!
Christmas, 1884
© George MacDonald
Though in my heart no Christmas glee,
Though my song-bird be dumb,
Jesus, it is enough for me
That thou art come.
Satyr II. To T:--- M.---y. On Law.
© Thomas Parnell
That angry Justice to her heaven went
There seems not so confessd an argument,
As Lawyers thriving in her name below,
When were she here again, again she'd go.
Thus courtiers, if a Kings from care wthdrawn,
Rise without meritt, & with fraud rule on.
Said The West Wind
© Isabella Valancy Crawford
I love old earth! Why should I lift my wings,
My misty wings, so high above her breast
That flowers would shake no perfumes from their hearts,
And waters breathe no whispers to the shores?
