All Poems

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Town and Country

© Rupert Brooke

Here, where love's stuff is body, arm and side
Are stabbing-sweet 'gainst chair and lamp and wall.
In every touch more intimate meanings hide;
And flaming brains are the white heart of all.

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Flora

© Charlotte Turner Smith

REMOTE from scenes, where the o'erwearied mind

Shrinks from the crimes and follies of mankind,

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Old Loves

© Henri Murger

Louise, have you forgotten yet

The corner of the flowery land,

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Vision Of The Archangels, The

© Rupert Brooke

They then from the sheer summit cast, and watched it fall,
Through unknown glooms, that frail black coffin -- and therein
God's little pitiful Body lying, worn and thin,
And curled up like some crumpled, lonely flower-petal --
Till it was no more visible; then turned again
With sorrowful quiet faces downward to the plain.

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America To Great Britain

© Washington Allston

  ALL hail! thou noble land,

  Our Fathers’ native soil!

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The Soldier's Grave

© Anonymous

Breathe not a whisper here;
The place where thou dost stand is hallowed ground;
In silence gather near this upheaved mound -
Around the soldier's bier.

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Ante Aram

© Rupert Brooke

Before thy shrine I kneel, an unknown worshipper,
Chanting strange hymns to thee and sorrowful litanies,
Incense of dirges, prayers that are as holy myrrh.

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Unselfishness in Friendship

© Jeremy Taylor

Lands, gold, and trifles many give or lend:
But he that stoops in fame is a rare friend;
In friendship's orbe thou art the brightest starre,
Before thy fame mine thou preferrest far.

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Sonnet XXXIV. Life And Death. 6.

© Christopher Pearse Cranch

So, heralded by Reason, Faith may tread
The darkened vale, the dolorous paths of night,
In the great thought secure that life and light
Flow from the Soul of all, who, with the dead

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Bereavement Of The Fields

© William Wilfred Campbell

Soft fall the February snows, and soft
  Falls on my heart the snow of wintry pain;
  For never more, by wood or field or croft,
  Will he we knew walk with his loved again;

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Retrospect

© Rupert Brooke

In your arms was still delight,
Quiet as a street at night;
And thoughts of you, I do remember,
Were green leaves in a darkened chamber,

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The Hermit of Thebaid

© John Greenleaf Whittier

O strong, upwelling prayers of faith,
From inmost founts of life ye start,-
The spirit's pulse, the vital breath
Of soul and heart!

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Spring Song In The City

© William Cosmo Monkhouse

WHO remains in London,  

 In the streets with me,  

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Sonnet: Oh! Death will find me, long before I tire

© Rupert Brooke

Oh! Death will find me, long before I tire
Of watching you; and swing me suddenly
Into the shade and loneliness and mire
Of the last land! There, waiting patiently,

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Lines Written In The Belief That The Ancient Roman Festival Of The Dead Was Called Ambarvalia

© Rupert Brooke

Swings the way still by hollow and hill,
And all the world's a song;
"She's far," it sings me, "but fair," it rings me,
"Quiet," it laughs, "and strong!"

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The Woodpecker

© William Morris

I once a King and chief
Now am the tree-bark’s thief,
Ever ’twixt trunk and leaf
Chasing the prey.

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Insomnia

© Madison Julius Cawein

It seems that dawn will never climb
  The eastern hills;
  And, clad in mist and flame and rime,
  Make flashing highways of the rills.

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In Rufum. Catul. Ep. 64

© Richard Lovelace

           IN RUFUM.  CATUL. EP. 64.
Noli admirari, quare tibi foemina nulla,
  Rufe, velit tenerum supposuisse femur;
Non ullam rarae labefactes munere vestis,

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Idyll VIII. The Triumph of Daphnis

© Theocritus

  MENALCAS.
  A lamb I'll venture never: for aye at close of day
  Father and mother count the flock, and passing strict are they.

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Is it dead—Find it

© Emily Dickinson

Is it dead—Find it—
Out of sound—Out of sight—
"Happy"? Which is wiser—
You, or the Wind?
"Conscious"? Won't you ask that—
Of the low Ground?