Children poems
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Edom o' Gordon
© Anonymous
It fell about the Martinmas, When the wind blew shrill and cauld,Said Edom o' Gordon to his men, 'We maun draw to a hauld.
The Dance At Darmstadt
© Alfred Austin
In the city of Darmstadt, the Sabbath morn
Shone over the broad Cathedral Square,
And to nobly, richly, and lowly born,
The belfry carilloned call to prayer.
"The Undying One" - Canto III
© Caroline Norton
"I went through the world, but I paused not now
At the gladsome heart and the joyous brow:
I went through the world, and I stay'd to mark
Where the heart was sore, and the spirit dark:
And the grief of others, though sad to see,
Was fraught with a demon's joy to me!
The Reformer
© Robert Laurence Binyon
Hyde Park
August from a vault of hollow brass
Steep upon the sullen city glares.
Yellower burns the sick and parching grass,
Shivering in the breath of furnace airs.
Epipsychidion
© Percy Bysshe Shelley
Sweet Spirit! Sister of that orphan one,
Whose empire is the name thou weepest on,
In my heart's temple I suspend to thee
These votive wreaths of withered memory.
Eighteen Hundred and Sixty-Four
© Henry Kendall
I HEAR no footfall beating through the dark,
A lonely gust is loitering at the pane;
There is no sound within these forests stark
Beyond a splash or two of sullen rain;
With the Tide
© Edith Wharton
Somewhere I read, in an old book whose name
Is gone from me, I read that when the days
Written In Australia
© Arthur Henry Adams
THE WIDE sun stares without a cloud:
Whipped by his glances truculent
The Peonage System
© Lizelia Augusta Jenkins Moorer
The religious wars of Europe have been numbered with the past,
But a worse thing, bright America with clouds has overcast,
'Tis the heinous contract system that plantation life contains,
Worse than slavery's conditions in a land where freedom reigns.
Acrobats
© Guillaume Apollinaire
The strollers in the plain
walk the length of gardens
before the doors of grey inns
through villages without churches
Our Saviour And The Samaritan Woman At The Well
© Rosanna Eleanor Leprohon
Close beside the crystal waters of Jacobs far-famed well,
Whose dewy coolness gratefully upon the parched air fell,
Reflecting back the bright hot heavens within its waveless breast,
Jesus, foot-sore and weary, had sat Him down to rest.
The Angel In The House. Book II. Canto VII.
© Coventry Kersey Dighton Patmore
Preludes.
I Joy and Use
Maha-Bharata, The Epic Of Ancient India - Conclusion
© Romesh Chunder Dutt
The real Epic ends with the war and with the funerals of the deceased
warriors, as we have stated before, and Yudhishthir's Horse-Sacrifice
is rather a crowning ornament than a part of the solid edifice. What
follows the sacrifice is in no sense a part of the real Epic; it
consists merely of concluding personal narratives of the heroes who
have figured in the poem.
Week-End
© Harold Monro
I
The train! The twleve o'clock for paradise.
Hurry, or it will try to creep away.
Out in the country every one is wise:
Preconception
© Benjamin Jonson
But tonight a poem came
in which a small child,
my daughter, appeared at the door
of a half-lit room
where late one night I wrote
at a heavy desk.
At Breakfast Time
© Edgar Albert Guest
My Pa he eats his breakfast
in a funny sort of way:
We hardly ever see him
at the first meal of the day.
The Deeds That Might Have Been
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
All these are pitiful. Yet, after tears,
Come rest and sleep and calm forgetfulness,
And God's good providence consoles the years.
Only the coward heart which did not guess,
The dreamer of brave deeds that might have been,
Shall cureless ache with wounds for ever green.
