All Poems
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The Forest Pool
© Mathilde Blind
LOST amid gloom and solitude,
A pool lies hidden in the wood,
A pool the autumn rain has made
Where flowers with their fair shadows played.
On The Death Of Sir Thomas Lea
© William Strode
You that affright with lamentable notes
The servants from their beef, whose hungry throats
Vex the grume porter's surly conscience:
That blesse the mint for coyning lesse than pence:
The Christmas Box
© Edgar Albert Guest
Oh, we have shipped his Christmas box with ribbons red 'tis tied,
And he shall find the things he likes from them he loves inside,
But he must miss the kisses true and all the laughter gay
And he must miss the smiles of home upon his Christmas Day.
On The Death Of Sir Tho: Peltham
© William Strode
Meerly for man's death to mourne
Were to repine that man was borne.
When weake old age doth fall asleepe
Twere foule ingratitude to weepe:
The Rowing Song
© Roald Dahl
Round the world and home again
That's the sailor's way
Faster faster, faster faster
On The Death Of Sir Rowland Cotton Seconding That Of Sir Robert
© William Strode
More Cottons yet? O let not envious Fate
Attempt the Ruine of our growing State.
O had it spar'd Sir Rowland, then might wee
Have almost spar'd Sir Robert's Library.
After Paul Verlaine-I
© Ernest Christopher Dowson
Tears fall within mine heart,
As rain upon the town:
Whence does this languor start,
Possessing all mine heart?
On The Death Of Mrs. Mary Neudham
© William Strode
As sinn makes gross the soule and thickens it
To fleshy dulness, so the spotless white
Of virgin pureness made thy flesh as cleere
As others soules: thou couldst not tarry heere
Question And Answer On The Mountain
© Li Po
You ask for what reason I stay on the green mountain,
I smile, but do not answer, my heart is at leisure.
Peach blossom is carried far off by flowing water,
Apart, I have heaven and earth in the human world.
On The Death Of Mr. James Van Otton
© William Strode
The first day of this month the last hath bin
To that deare soule. March never did come in
So lyonlike as now: our lives are made
As fickle as the weather or the shade.
The Things You Can't Forget
© Edgar Albert Guest
They ain't much, seen from day to day--
The big elm tree across the way,
On The Death Of Mistress Mary Prideaux
© William Strode
Weep not because this childe hath dyed so yong,
But weepe because yourselves have livde so long:
Age is not fild by growth of time, for then
What old man lives to see th' estate of men?
Day And Night
© Edith Nesbit
NIGHT, ambushed in the darkling wood,
Waited to seize the sleeping field,
On The Death Of Ladie Caesar
© William Strode
Though Death to good men be the greatest boone,
I dare not think this Lady dyde so soone.
She should have livde for others: Poor mens want
Should make her stande, though she herselfe should faynt.
The True-Blue American
© Delmore Schwartz
Jeremiah Dickson was a true-blue American,
For he was a little boy who understood America, for he felt that he must
On The Death Of Dr. Lancton President Of Maudlin College
© William Strode
When men for injuryes unsatisfy'd,
For hopes cutt off, for debts not fully payd,
For legacies in vain expected, mourne
Over theyr owne respects within the urne,
The Wanderings Of Oisin: Book III
© William Butler Yeats
Fled foam underneath us, and round us, a wandering and milky smoke,
High as the Saddle-girth, covering away from our glances the tide;
And those that fled, and that followed, from the foam-pale distance broke;
The immortal desire of Immortals we saw in their faces, and sighed.
On The Death Of A Twin
© William Strode
Where are yee now, Astrologers, that looke
For petty accidents in Heavens booke?
Two Twins, to whom one Influence gave breath,
Differ in more than Fortune, Life and Death.
'All's Well'
© Francis William Bourdillon
Watchman, watchman, what of the night,
What of the night to tell?
The heavens are dark, and never a light
But the far-off flicker of Hell.
On The Bible
© William Strode
Once more this mighty word his people greets,
Thus lapt and thus swath'd upp in paper sheets:
Read here God's Image with a zealous eye,
The legible and written Deity.
