All Poems
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Transience
© Sarojini Naidu
Nay, do not grieve tho' life be full of sadness,
Dawn will not veil her splendour for your grief,
Nor spring deny their bright, appointed beauty
To lotus blossom and ashoka leaf.
An Old Contemptible
© William Henry Ogilvie
Along the road the ceaseless motors thrust,
Shrieking discordant warning and harsh blame.
Then, suddenly, proud stepping through the dust,
Comes what I '11 call for want of better name
One of the Old Contemptibles.
To Mrs. King, On Her Kind Present To The Author, A Patchwork Counterpane Of Her Own Making
© William Cowper
The Bard, if e'er he feel at all,
Must sure be quickened by a call
Both on his heart and head,
To pay with tuneful thanks the care
And kindness of a lady fair
Who deigns to deck his bed.
Abide With Me
© Henry Francis Lyte
Abide with me! Fast falls the Eventide;
The darkness thickens. Lord, with me abide
When other helpers fail, and comforts flee,
Help of the helpless, O abide with me!
For A' That And A' That
© Sir Walter Scott
For on the land, or on the sea,
Where'er the breezes blaw that,
The British flag shall bear the grie,
And win the day for a' that!
Alfred. Book II.
© Henry James Pye
He ceasedbut still the accents of his tongue
Persuasive, on the attentive hearers hung:
The monarch and his warlike thanes around
Still listening sat, in silent wonder bound.
Children of Light
© Robert Lowell
Our fathers wrung their bread from stocks and stones
And fenced their gardens with the Redmen's bones;
London Types: Barmaid
© William Ernest Henley
Though, if you ask her name, she says "Elise,"
Being plain Elizabeth, e'en let it pass,
An Horation 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.
A First Review
© Robert Graves
Love, Fear and Hate and Childish Toys
Are here discreetly blent;
Admire, you ladies, read, you boys,
My Country Sentiment.
Song is Not Dead
© Robert Fuller Murray
Song is not dead, although to-day
Men tell us everything is said.
There yet is something left to say,
Song is not dead.
Harvard
© Oliver Wendell Holmes
CHANGELESS in beauty, rose-hues on her cheek,
Old walls, old trees, old memories all around
The Prophet
© George MacDonald
Speak, Prophet of the Lord! We may not start
To find thee with us in thine ancient dress,
Venice
© Christopher Pearse Cranch
WHILE the skies of this northern November
Scowl down with a darkening menace,
I wonder if you still remember
That marvellous summer in Venice.
In Wintry Weather
© Dora Sigerson Shorter
When each sweet rose uncurled
To its unknown world,
How could you e'er remember
That in a bleak December,
Through all the bitter weather,
We crept so close together?
Nativity
© John Donne
Immensity cloistered in thy dear womb,
Now leaves His well-belov'd imprisonment,
