All Poems
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Vigo County
© Etheridge Knight
Beyond the brown hill
Above the silent cedars,
Blackbirds flee the April rains.
A Watch-String
© William Strode
These strings can do what no man could--
The tyme they fast in prison hold.
The Vier-Zide
© William Barnes
'Tis zome vo'ks jaÿ to teäke the road,
An' goo abro'd, a-wand'rèn wide,
Vrom shere to shere, vrom pleäce to pleäce,
The swiftest peäce that vo'k can ride.
But I've a jaÿ 'ithin the door,
Wi' friends avore the vier-zide.
Preludes
© Madison Julius Cawein
A thought to lift me up to those
Sweet wildflowers of the pensive woods;
The lofty, lowly attitudes
Of bluet and of bramble-rose:
To lift me where my mind may reach
The lessons which their beauties teach.
A Translation Of The Nightingale Out Of Strada
© William Strode
Now the declining sun 'gan downwards bend
From higher heavens, and from his locks did send
A milder flame, when near to Tiber's flow
A lutinist allay'd his careful woe
A Superscription On Sir Philip Sidney's Arcadia, Sent For A Token
© William Strode
Whatever in Philoclea the fair
Or the discreet Pamela figur'd are,
Change but the name the virtues are your owne,
And for a fiction there a truth is knowne:
Elliot's Oak
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Thou ancient oak! whose myriad leaves are loud
With sounds of unintelligible speech,
A Strange Gentlewoman Passing By His Window
© William Strode
As I out of a casement sent
Mine eyes as wand'ring as my thought,
Upon no certayne object bent,
But only what occasion brought,
The End Of The Furrow
© William Wilfred Campbell
When we come to the end of the furrow,
When our last day's work is done,
We will drink of the long red shaft of light
That slants from the westering sun.
A Song On The Baths
© William Strode
What Angel stirrs this happy Well,
Some Muse from thence come shew't me,
One of those naked Graces tell
That Angels are for beauty:
The Legend of St. Mark
© John Greenleaf Whittier
The day is closing dark and cold,
With roaring blast and sleety showers;
And through the dusk the lilacs wear
The bloom of snow, instead of flowers.
A Song On A Sigh
© William Strode
O tell mee, tell, thou god of wynde,
In all thy cavernes canst thou finde
A vapor, fume, a gale or blast
Like to a sigh which love doth cast?
Hymn 102
© Isaac Watts
No, I'll repine at death no more,
But with a cheerful gasp resign
To the cold dungeon of the grave
These dying, with'ring limbs of mine.
A Riddle: On A Kiss
© William Strode
What thing is that, nor felt nor seene
Till it bee given? a present for a Queene:
A fine conceite to give and take the like:
The giver yet is farther for to seeke;
The Thistle
© Robert Laurence Binyon
In a patch of baked earth
At the crumbled cliff's brink,
Where the parching of August
Has cracked a long chink,
A Purse-String
© William Strode
While thus I hang, you threatned see
The fate of him that stealeth mee.
Content
© George Herbert
Peace, mutt'ring thoughts, and do not grudge to keep
Within the walls of your own breast.
Who cannot on his own bed sweetly sleep,
Can on another's hardly rest.
A Paralell Between Bowling And Preferment
© William Strode
Preferment, like a Game at bowles,
To feede our hope with diverse play
Heer quick it runnes, there soft it rowles:
The Betters make and shew the way.
The Love Sonnets Of Proteus. Part II: To Juliet: XLI
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
THE SAME CONTINUED
We may not meet. I could not for pride's sake
Dissemble further, and I suffer pain,
A palpable distinct and physical ache,
A New Year's Gift
© William Strode
We are prevented; you whose Presence is
A Publick New-yeares gift, a Common bliss
To all that Love or Feare, give no man leave
To vie a Gift but first he shall receave;
Like as the Persian Sun with golden Eies
First shines upon the Priest and Sacrifice.
