All Poems
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The Reply to Time
© Mary Darby Robinson
O TIME, forgive the mournful song
That on thy pinions stole along,
When the rude hand of pain severe
Chas'd down my cheek the burning tear;
Sonnet Written After Having Read A. F. Rios, Petite Chouaunerie
© John Kenyon
Call not our Bretons backward. What if rude
Of speech and mien, and rude of fashiondrest;
The Poor Singing Dame
© Mary Darby Robinson
Beneath an old wall, that went round an old Castle,
For many a year, with brown ivy o'erspread;
A neat little Hovel, its lowly roof raising,
Defied the wild winds that howl'd over its shed:
The Negro Girl
© Mary Darby Robinson
Dark was the dawn, and o'er the deep
The boist'rous whirlwinds blew;
The Sea-bird wheel'd its circling sweep,
And all was drear to view--
When on the beach that binds the western shore
The love-lorn ZELMA stood, list'ning the tempest's roar.
Love's Ebb And Flow
© Aleksey Konstantinovich Tolstoy
Believe me not, dear, when in hours of anguish
I say my love for thee exists no more.
At ebb of tide, think not the sea is faithless;
It will return with love unto the shore.
The Mistletoe (A Christmas Tale)
© Mary Darby Robinson
This Farmer, as the tale is told--
Was somewhat cross, and somewhat old!
His, was the wintry hour of life,
While summer smiled before his wife;
A contrast, rather form'd to cloy
The zest of matrimonial joy!
A Coquette Conquered
© Paul Laurence Dunbar
Yes, my ha't's ez ha'd ez stone
Go 'way, Sam, an' lemme 'lone.
The Lascar
© Mary Darby Robinson
I. "Another day, Ah! me, a day
"Of dreary Sorrow is begun!
"And still I loath the temper'd ray,
"And still I hate the sickly Sun!
Soothsay
© Dante Gabriel Rossetti
Let no man ask thee of anything
Not yearborn between Spring and Spring.
The Hermit of Mont-Blanc
© Mary Darby Robinson
High, on the Solitude of Alpine Hills,
O'er-topping the grand imag'ry of Nature,
Where one eternal winter seem'd to reign;
An HERMIT'S threshold, carpetted with moss,
To A Dead Lover
© Louise Bogan
The dark is thrown
Back from the brightness, like hair
Cast over a shoulder.
I am alone,
The Haunted Beach
© Mary Darby Robinson
Upon a lonely desart Beach
Where the white foam was scatter'd,
A little shed uprear'd its head
Though lofty Barks were shatter'd.
The Granny Grey, a Love Tale
© Mary Darby Robinson
The DAME was silent; for the Lover
Would, when she spoke,
She fear'd, discover
Her envious joke:
And she was too much charm'd to be
In haste,--to end the Comedy!
Conscious
© Wilfred Owen
His fingers wake, and flutter; up the bed.
His eyes come open with a pull of will,
The Fortune-Teller, a Gypsy Tale
© Mary Darby Robinson
STEPHEN had long in secret sigh'd;
And STEPHEN never was deny'd:
Now, LUBIN was a modest swain,
And therefore, treated with disdain:
For, it is said, in Love and War ,--
The boldest, most successful are!
Sur Un Groupe De Jupiter Et DEurope
© André Marie de Chénier
_Des nymphes et des satyres chantent dans une grotte qu'il faut peindre
bien romantique, pittoresque, divine, en soupant, avec des coupes
ciselées; chacun chante le sujet représenté sur sa coupe. L'un_:
Étranger, ce taureau, _etc._; _l'autre_: Pasiphaé; _d'autres,
d'autres_...
The Faded Bouquet
© Mary Darby Robinson
FAIR was this blushing ROSE of May,
And fresh it hail'd morn's breezy hour,
When ev'ry spangled leaf look'd gay,
Besprinkled with the twilight show'r;
The Deserted Cottage
© Mary Darby Robinson
Who dwelt in yonder lonely Cot,
Why is it thus forsaken?
It seems, by all the world forgot,
Above its path the high grass grows,
And through its thatch the northwind blows
--Its thatch, by tempests shaken.
