All Poems
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On a Honey Bee
© Philip Morin Freneau
Thou born to sip the lake or spring,
Or quaff the waters of the stream,
Why hither come on vagrant wing?--
Does Bacchus tempting seem--
Did he, for you, the glass prepare?--
Will I admit you to a share?
By The Alma River
© Dinah Maria Mulock Craik
Willie, Willie, go to sleep,
God will keep us, O my boy;
He will make the dull hours creep
Faster, and send news of joy,
The Indian Burying Ground
© Philip Morin Freneau
In spite of all the learn'd have said;
I still my old opinion keep,
The posture, that we give the dead,
Points out the soul's eternal sleep.
The Wild Honey-Suckle
© Philip Morin Freneau
Fair flower, that dost so comely grow,
Hid in this silent, dull retreat,
Untouched thy honied blossoms blow,
Unseen thy little branches greet;
...No roving foot shall crush thee here,
...No busy hand provoke a tear.
On Retirement
© Philip Morin Freneau
A HERMIT'S house beside a stream
With forests planted round,
Whatever it to you may seem
More real happiness I deem
Than if I were a monarch crowned.
An End
© Christina Georgina Rossetti
To few chords and sad and low
Sing we so:
Be our eyes fixed on the grass
Shadow-veiled as the years pass
While we think of all that was
In the long ago.
On Receiving a Crown of Ivy from John Keats
© James Henry Leigh Hunt
It is what's within us crowned. And kind and great
Are all the conquering wishes it inspires,
Love of things lasting, love of the tall woods,
Love of love's self, and ardour for a state
Of natural good befitting such desires,
Towns without gain, and hunted solitudes.
Kindliness
© Rupert Brooke
When love has changed to kindliness -
Oh, love, our hungry lips, that press
A Thought or Two on Reading Pomfret's
© James Henry Leigh Hunt
I have been reading Pomfret's "Choice" this spring,
A pretty kind of--sort of--kind of thing,
Not much a verse, and poem none at all,
Yet, as they say, extremely natural.
In Time of Pestilence
© Thomas Nashe
Adieu, farewell earth's bliss,
This world uncertain is;
Fond are life's lustful joys,
Death proves them all but toys,
How Robin and His Outlaws Lived in The Woods
© James Henry Leigh Hunt
Robin and his merry men
: Lived just like the birds;
They had almost as many tracks as thoughts,
: And whistles and songs as words.
A Masque Of The Seasons
© James Whitcomb Riley
Scene.--_A kitchen.--Group of Children, popping corn.--The Fairy Queen
of the Seasons discovered in the smoke of the corn-popper.--Waving her
wand, and, with eerie, sharp, imperious ejaculations, addressing the
bespelled auditors, who neither see nor hear her nor suspect her
presence._
To Robert Batty, M.D., on His Giving Me a Lock of Milton's Hair
© James Henry Leigh Hunt
There seems a love in hair, though it be dead.
It is the gentlest, yet the strongest thread
Of our frail plant,--a blossom from the tree
Surviving the proud trunk; as if it said,
Patience and gentleness in power. In me
Behold affectionate eternity.
Sonnet XXIII
© Fernando António Nogueira Pessoa
Even as upon a low and cloud-domed day,
When clouds are one cloud till the horizon,
Sudden Fine Weather
© James Henry Leigh Hunt
Reader! what soul that laoves a verse can see
The spring return, nor glow like you and me?
Hear the quick birds, and see the landscape fill,
Nor long to utter his melodious will?
Robin Hood's Flight
© James Henry Leigh Hunt
Robin Hood's mother, these twelve years now,
Has been gone from her earthly home;
And Robin has paid, he scarce knew how,
A sum for a noble tomb.
A Thought of the Nile
© James Henry Leigh Hunt
Then comes a mightier silence, stern and strong,
As of a world left empty of its throng,
And the void weighs on us; and then we wake,
And hear the fruitful stream lapsing along
Twixt villages, and think how we shall take
Our own calm journey on for human sake.
