All Poems
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Sonnet to Ocean
© Thomas Hood
Shall I rebuke thee, Ocean, my old love,
That once, in rage, with the wild winds at strife,
Thou darest menace my unit of a life,
Sending my clay below, my soul above,
Sonnet II. Written at Bamborough Castle.
© William Lisle Bowles
YE holy tow'rs, that crown the azure deep,
Still may ye shade the wave-worn rock sublime,
Though, hurrying silent by, relentless Time
Assail you, and the winter Whirlwind's sweep!
The Comedian As The Letter C: 05 - A Nice Shady Home
© Wallace Stevens
Crispin as hermit, pure and capable,
Dwelt in the land. Perhaps if discontent
The Huntsman's Horse
© William Henry Ogilvie
The galloping seasons have slackened his pace,
And stone wall and timber have battered his knees
The Lord of Burleigh
© Alfred Tennyson
IN her ear he whispers gaily,
'If my heart by signs can tell,
My Big Brother
© Edgar Albert Guest
My big brother will git you fer that,
He'll shine up your eye and he'll step on your hat:
Story Telling
© Edgar Albert Guest
Most every night when they're in bed,
And both their little prayers have said,
The Study
© Oliver Wendell Holmes
YET in the darksome crypt I left so late,
Whose only altar is its rusted grate,âÂ
Epitaph For William Pitt
© George Gordon Byron
With death doom'd to grapple,
Beneath this cold slab, he
Who lied in the Chapel
Now lies in the Abbey.
Brother Of All, With Generous Hand
© Walt Whitman
Brother of all, with generous hand,
Of thee, pondering on thee, as o'er thy tomb, I and my Soul,
A thought to launch in memory of thee,
A burial verse for thee.
The Dark, Blue Sea
© George Gordon Byron
There is a pleasure in the pathless woods,
There is a rapture on the lonely shore,
The Jew
© Jones Very
Thou art more deadly than the Jew of old,
Thou hast his weapons hidden in thy speech;
Unseasonable Snows
© Alfred Austin
The leaves have not yet gone; then why do ye come,
O white flakes falling from a dusky cloud?
One O'Clock in the Morning
© Charles Baudelaire
At last! I am alone! Nothing can be heard but the rumbling of a few belated and weary cabs. For a few hours at least silence will be ours, if not sleep. At last! The tyranny of the human face has disappeared, and now there will be no one but myself to make me suffer.
At last! I am allowed to relax in a bath of darkness! First a double turn of the key in the lock. This turn of the key will, it seems to me, increase my solitude and strengthen the barricades that, for the moment, separate me from the world.
The Fiftieth Birthday Of Agassiz. (Birds Of Passage. Flight The First)
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
It was fifty years ago
In the pleasant month of May,
In the beautiful Pays de Vaud,
A child in its cradle lay.
On Leaving A Place Of Residence
© William Lisle Bowles
If I could bid thee, pleasant shade, farewell
Without a sigh, amidst whose circling bowers
