Alone poems

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Living with myself

© KateZ

So alone my dear life
looking for error in my mind
no problem, only loneliness
but why so sad?

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Written near a Port on a Dark Evening

© Charlotte Turner Smith

All is black shadow but the lucid line
Marked by the light surf on the level sand,
Or where afar the ship-lights faintly shine
Like wandering fairy fires, that oft on land
Misled the pilgrim--such the dubious ray
That wavering reason lends in life's long darkling way.

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The Emigrants: Book II

© Charlotte Turner Smith

Scene, on an Eminence on one of those Downs, which afford to the South a view of the Sea; to the North of the Weald of Sussex. Time, an Afternoon in April, 1793.


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The Emigrants: Book I

© Charlotte Turner Smith

Scene, on the Cliffs to the Eastward of the Town of

Brighthelmstone in Sussex. Time, a Morning in November, 1792.

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Sonnet LXVI: The Night-Flood Rakes

© Charlotte Turner Smith

The night-flood rakes upon the stony shore;

Along the rugged cliffs and chalky caves

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Huge Vapours Brood Above the Clifted Shore

© Charlotte Turner Smith

Huge vapours brood above the clifted shore,

Night o'er the ocean settles, dark and mute,

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Song of the Lotos-Eaters

© Alfred Tennyson

THERE is sweet music here that softer falls


Than petals from blown roses on the grass,

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In Memoriam A. H. H.: The Prelude

© Alfred Tennyson

Thou seemest human and divine,
The highest, holiest manhood, thou.
Our wills are ours, we know not how,
Our wills are ours, to make them thine.

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In Memoriam A. H. H.: Is it, then, regret for buried time

© Alfred Tennyson

Yet less of sorrow lives in me
For days of happy commune dead;
Less yearning for the friendship fled,
Than some strong bond which is to be.

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In Memoriam A. H. H.: 95. By night we linger'd on the lawn

© Alfred Tennyson

While now we sang old songs that peal'd
From knoll to knoll, where, couch'd at ease,
The white kine glimmer'd, and the trees
Laid their dark arms about the field.

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In Memoriam A. H. H.: 82. I wage not any feud with death

© Alfred Tennyson

For this alone on Death I wreak
The wrath that garners in my heart;
He put our lives so far apart
We cannot hear each other speak.

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In Memoriam A. H. H.: 105. To-night ungather'd let us leave

© Alfred Tennyson

Let cares that petty shadows cast,
By which our lives are chiefly proved,
A little spare the night I loved,
And hold it solemn to the past.

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Come Into The Garden, Maud

© Alfred Tennyson

Come into the garden, Maud,
For the black bat, Night, has flown,
Come into the garden, Maud,
I am here at the gate alone;
And the woodbine spices are wafted abroad,
And the musk of the roses blown.

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Come Into the Garde, Maud

© Alfred Tennyson

Come into the garden, Maud,
For the black bat, Night, has flown,
Come into the garden, Maud,
I am here at the gate alone;
And the woodbine spices are wafted abroad,
And the musk of the roses blown.

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Claribel: A Melody

© Alfred Tennyson

Where Claribel low-lieth

The breezes pause and die,

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Alfred Lord Tennyson - The Coming Of Arthur

© Alfred Tennyson

Leodogran, the King of Cameliard,
Had one fair daughter, and none other child;
And she was the fairest of all flesh on earth,
Guinevere, and in her his one delight.

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Dream On

© James Tate

Some people go their whole lives

without ever writing a single poem.

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The Land of Nod

© Robert Louis Stevenson

From breakfast on through all the day
At home among my friends I stay,
But every night I go abroad
Afar into the land of Nod.

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The Comedian As The Letter C

© Wallace Stevens

379 Trinket pasticcio, flaunting skyey sheets,
380 With Crispin as the tiptoe cozener?
381 No, no: veracious page on page, exact.

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Our Bog Is Dood

© Stevie Smith

Our Bog is dood, our Bog is dood,
They lisped in accents mild,
But when I asked them to explain
They grew a little wild.
How do you know your Bog is dood
My darling little child?