All Poems
/ page 2213 of 3210 /
The Sluggard
© Isaac Watts
'Tis the voice of the sluggard; I heard him complain,
"You have waked me too soon, I must slumber again."
As the door on its hinges, so he on his bed,
Turns his sides and his shoulders and his heavy head.
On Mr. Milton's Paradise Lost
© Andrew Marvell
When I beheld the Poet blind, yet bold,
In slender Book his vast Design unfold,
Messiah Crown'd, Gods Reconcil'd Decree,
Rebelling Angels, the Forbidden Tree,
For yon oaken avenue, swain, you must steer
© Theocritus
For yon oaken avenue, swain, you must steer,
Where a statue of figwood, you'll see, has been set:
It has never been barked, has three legs and no ear;
But I think there is life in the patriarch yet.
The Fair Singer
© Andrew Marvell
To make a final conquest of all me,
Love did compose so sweet an Enemy,
In whom both Beauties to my death agree,
Joyning themselves in fatal Harmony;
That while she with her Eyes my Heart does bind,
She with her Voice might captivate my Mind.
The Old Front Gate
© Paul Laurence Dunbar
W'en daih's chillun in de house,
Dey keep on a-gittin' tall;
Last Instructions to a Painter
© Andrew Marvell
Here, Painter, rest a little, and survey
With what small arts the public game they play.
For so too Rubens, with affairs of state,
His labouring pencil oft would recreate.
Damon The Mower
© Andrew Marvell
Heark how the Mower Damon Sung,
With love of Juliana stung!
While ev'ry thing did seem to paint
The Scene more fit for his complaint.
Vanity Of Life
© John Newton
The evils that beset our path
Who can prevent or cure?
We stand upon the brink of death
When most we seem secure.
Daphnis And Chloe
© Andrew Marvell
Daphnis must from Chloe part:
Now is come the dismal Hour
That must all his Hopes devour,
All his Labour, all his Art.
Lines Written At Sea (II)
© Frances Anne Kemble
But love thee still,
Through good and ill,
With the constancy
Of eternity:
Why art thou weeping,
O fool, for the dead?
An Horatian Ode Upon Cromwell's Return from Ireland
© Andrew Marvell
The forward youth that would appear
Must now forsake his Muses dear,
Nor in the shadows sing
His numbers languishing.
The Picnic
© Charles Godfrey Leland
DE picknock oud at Spraker's Wood:-
It melt de soul und fire de plood.
Id sofly slid from cakes und cream;
Boot busted oop on brandy shdeam.
The Unfortunate Lover
© Andrew Marvell
Alas, how pleasant are their dayes
With whom the Infant Love yet playes!
Sorted by pairs, they still are seen
By Fountains cool, and Shadows green.
Thoughts in a Garden
© Andrew Marvell
HOW vainly men themselves amaze
To win the palm, the oak, or bays,
And their uncessant labours see
Crown'd from some single herb or tree,
Mourning
© Andrew Marvell
You, that decipher out the Fate
Of humane Off-springs from the Skies,
What mean these Infants which of late
Spring from the Starrs of Chlora's Eyes?
Elands River
© George Essex Evans
IT WAS on the fourth of August, as five hundred of us lay
In the camp at Elands River, came a shell from De La Rey
Bermudas
© Andrew Marvell
Where the remote Bermudas ride
In th' Oceans bosome unespy'd,
From a small Boat, that row'd along,
The listning Winds receiv'd this Song.
On A Handful Of French Money
© Dante Gabriel Rossetti
These coins that jostle on my hand do own
No single image: each name here and date
