All Poems
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An Autumn Song
© George MacDonald
Are the leaves falling round about
The churchyard on the hill?
Is the glow of autumn going out?
Is that the winter chill?
And yet through winter's noise, no doubt
The graves are very still!
The Illuminations Of St. Peters
© Richard Monckton Milnes
I.
FIRST ILLUMINATION.
Temple! where Time has wed Eternity,
How beautiful Thou art, beyond compare,
On A Figure Of Justice With Bound Eyes
© Robert Laurence Binyon
Unhappy goddess! Has then envious earth
Denied thine eyes the radiance of thy birth?
Have mortals, that still need thy voice to school
Their wrangling lives, their daily feuds to rule,
False Dearvorgil
© Dora Sigerson Shorter
Woe to the House of Breffni, and to Red O'Ruark woe!
Woe to us all in Erinn for the shame that laid us low!
And cursed be you, Dearvorgil, who severed north and south,
And ruin brought to Erinn with the smiling of your mouth.
To-Day
© Augusta Davies Webster
OH God, where hast thou hidden Truth? Oh Truth,
Where is the road to God?
Farewell to the Muse
© Sir Walter Scott
Enchantress, farewell, who so oft hast decoy'd me,
At the close of the evening through woodlands to roam,
Nirvana
© John Hall Wheelock
Sleep on - I lie at heaven's high oriels,
Over the stars that murmur as they go
The Maiden's Sorrow
© William Cullen Bryant
Seven long years has the desert rain
Dropped on the clods that hide thy face;
Seven long years of sorrow and pain
I have thought of thy burial-place.
The Princess (part 3)
© Alfred Tennyson
Morn in the wake of the morning star
Came furrowing all the orient into gold.
We rose, and each by other drest with care
Descended to the court that lay three parts
In shadow, but the Muses' heads were touched
Above the darkness from their native East.
That Great Waiting Silence
© Henry Lawson
WHERE shall we go for prophecy? Where shall we go for proof?
The holiday street is crowded, pavement, window and roof;
Band and banner pass by us, and the old tunes rise and fall
But that great waiting silence is on the people all!
Songs of the Pixies
© Samuel Taylor Coleridge
I.
Whom the untaught Shepherds call
Pixies in their madrigal,
Fancy's children, here we dwell:
Italy : 44. A Character
© Samuel Rogers
One of two things Montrioli may have,
My envy or compassion. Both he cannot.
Yet on he goes, numbering as miseries,
What least of all he would consent to lose,
Spleen (I)
© Charles Baudelaire
Pluviôse, irrité contre la ville entière,
De son urne à grands flots verse un froid ténébreux
Aux pâles habitants du voisin cimetière
Et la mortalité sur les faubourgs brumeux.
To my Mother
© Louisa Stuart Costello
Yes, I have sung of others' woes,
Until they almost seem'd mine own,
And fancy oft will scenes disclose
Whose being was in thought alone:
