All Poems
/ page 757 of 3210 /The Fireworks From The Castle Of St. Angelo
© Richard Monckton Milnes
Play on, play on, I share your gorgeous glee,
Creatures of elemental mirth! play on,--
Let each fulfil his marvellous destiny,
My heart leaps up and falls in unison.
The Philosopher and the Philanthropist
© James Kenneth Stephen
Searching an infinite Where,
Probing a bottomless When,
Dreamfully wandering,
Ceaselessly pondering,
San Stefano
© Sir Henry Newbolt
She'd a right fighting company, three hundred men and more,
Nine and forty guns in tackle running free;
And they cheered her from the shore for her colours at the fore,
When the bold _Menelaus_ put to sea.
A Fly Caught In A Cobweb
© Richard Lovelace
Small type of great ones, that do hum
Within this whole world's narrow room,
That with a busie hollow noise
Catch at the people's vainer voice,
Es sang vor langen Jahren
© Clemens Maria Brentano
Es sang vor langen Jahren
Wohl auch die Nachtigall;
Das war wohl süßer Schall,
Da wir zusammen waren.
Gipsies
© William Wordsworth
YET are they here the same unbroken knot
Of human Beings, in the self-same spot!
Men, women, children, yea the frame
Of the whole spectacle the same!
The Short Fear
© Benjamin Jonson
I maintain my self in the conviction
that I have as much to say as others
and more apposite ways of saying it
A Song Of Other days
© Oliver Wendell Holmes
As o'er the glacier's frozen sheet
Breathes soft the Alpine rose,
On Lucy, Countess of Bedford
© Benjamin Jonson
This morning, timely rapt with holy fire,
I thought to form unto my zealous Muse
Kathleens Charity
© Dora Sigerson Shorter
"God bless the work," said young Kathleen,
She bent her golden head,
The Childs Monitor
© Ann Taylor
That something says, without a sound,
"Take care, dear child, you may be drown'd: "
And for the poor whene'er I grieve,
That something says, "A penny give."
The Tower of Doctrine - (from the History of Graunde Amoure)
© Stephen Hawes
That treated well of a ful noble story,
Of the doubty waye to the tower perillous;
Howe a noble knyght should wynne the victory
Of many a serpente foule and odious:
***
On Leaving London For Wales
© Percy Bysshe Shelley
Hail to thee, Cambria! for the unfettered wind
Which from thy wilds even now methinks I feel,
Chasing the clouds that roll in wrath behind,
And tightening the soul's laxest nerves to steel;
100,000 Pennies
© Sheldon Allan Silverstein
I broke into the bank on Sunday,
You should see the money I got.
I couldn't drag it home 'til Monday,
'Cause it sure weighed an awful lot.
Durer's 'Melencholia'
© Edward Dowden
THE bow of promise, this lost flaring star,
Terror and hope are in mid-heaven; but She,
The Yellowhammer
© John Clare
When shall I see the white-thorn leaves agen,
And yellowhammers gathering the dry bents